Every Time
by Fantastical Queen Ebony Black
Summary: [COMPLETE!] Sango always avoided getting close. But when Miroku lays dying, and of Kohaku's hand, will she finally realize her feelings? There's no such thing as the perfect happy ending... but they can try, can't they...? [SM]
1. Torn

**Every Time**

**Notes**: First chapter has been revised! Yay! Uh, the inspiration for this was random, when I was watching MTV, and the music video for 'Every Time' by Britney Spears came on. Horrible video, but the song is fairly pretty. Thank you so much to everyone reading this!

Lyrics removed due to new rule (april 29, 2005)

**Disclaimer**: No Inu for me

Chapter 1: Torn

"Houshi-sama!"

Just one heart-bitten word drifted in the air, silence in the void. The wind was still, and all movement halted. Her legs began to move, though she didn't remember telling them to do so, bringing her closer to him.

The sickening thud of a body landing awkwardly. Bones snapping. Blood spraying onto the ground.

"Houshi-sama!"

No words came from his slightly parted lips, only slow exhalation. The hazy indigo of his eyes seemed out of focus, as if he were looking for something he couldn't see. She felt herself kneel beside him, palms slapping the ground hard, rocks and stones creating abrasion on the calloused skin.

"Houshi...sama..."

...Not such a short time beforehand...

Only half alert, the taijiya was perched on the fencepost. Kirara groomed herself below, the kistune Shippou snoring quietly in the shade of the tall grass. At first glance, the scene was quiet, calm. Enough to be a painting, even. But if you were to move in closer, you would see the hatred burning in the young woman's eyes. And if you were to follow her gaze, you would surely see the reason.

"Ah, I see... You have very nice hands, young miss. I know you will make an excellent wife."

"Excellent indeed." Sango murmured, growing weary of watching. She had half a mind to go over to him and drag him off. But what right did she have? He had no such ties to her, and he did need an heir.

She wanted. He needed.

He won.

And so she remained backdrop. Unoticed, and indesireable, next to the flirty girls he stood by. Was that really what he wanted? If she were like that, would he want her?

"It's stupid!" she announced firmly to herself, "Just stupid!"

'I don't want him. he doesn't want me, so it works out! Why am I getting so worked up over nothing?'

'It's not like he ever bothers to read my palm or anything...'

The sudden warming of her hand caused her to squeal. Looking to the source, she found the subject of her thoughts holding her hand thoughtfully. As if he'd been reading her fuming mind.

"Sango," he started, voice soft, "You seem distressed."

"It's nothing."

"Are you sure?"

"I'm sure, Houshi-sama, now let go of me!"

Sango promptly snatched away her hand, balling it into a menacing fist. The monk sighed, and leaned against the rail beside her.

"So why are you over here?" she asked bitterly.

"Oh, I got a little, um... carried away?"

"Figures," came her blunt mutter. Miroku sighed again, nearly exasperated, and looked up to the silky blue sky above them.

"I guess we'll be waiting here, until Inuyasha and Kagome come back from checking out the other side of the village, eh?"

She didn't answer him, lifting her head a little, and glancing around.

"Sango...?"

"Shut up!"

Sango glanced around, momentarily stopping her breathing to get a better grasp of the sound. It was hard to track, amongst the bustle of the town, but...

"What's the-"

"Get down!"

Her eyes widened suddenly as she dove into him, body pressed against body as they dove into the grasses. Above them, a whizzing was heard, along with the clinking of chains. Both ignored the small distance between themselves for a moment, watching through the blades of grass. The chain was quickly reeled in, the weilder beyond their sights. Though they both could guess who it was...

Shippou awoke slowly, still confused as to the happenings around him. Kirara had lept to him, her palehair standing on end. Sango quickly pushed herself away from the monk, feeling her heart pulled in many a direction. Taking deep breaths, she tried to stop the heat rising in her, shading her cheeks.

"My God... Sango..." the monk panted, reaching a hand for her. A breathless smile rested on his lips, beckoning. "You saved my life."

"It was nothing Houshi-sama, it's been done many times before."

"But I-"

A footstep halted his voice, and Sango took the oppurtunity to fully pull herself from him. Carefully they listened, crouched awkwardly out of veiw. The smell of grass was nearly overpowering, and Sango felt herself become slightly light-headed - though mostly from the drawn out wait. A flame alighted in her heart, flickering and engulfing her mind. Guilt forced it's way up into her throat, breathing tight and difficult.

Finally, a head came into view. The black hair pulled up into a ponytail, the garb of the Taijiya clan adorned his body. Light freckles dotted his cheeks, against the olive skin. Though Sango had known all along, her eyes widened in shock. Her body began toquiver with fear, one hand firmly clenched over her mouth, though a loud, chokedsob still escaped.

"Kohaku..."

She moved the other hand for her Hiraikotsu, which had been lying on the gound by Shippou. The little fox looked up at Sango with confused eyes. No one else in the village had noticed anything, just carrying on their normal routine.

"Shippou," Sango hissed, "Go get Kagome and Inuyasha. Now."

With a nod, Shippou scampered off, tail bobbing behind him. Kirara meowed in soft mourning, watching as her mistress took firm hold of her weapon.

"Houshi-sama, I want you to stay here."

His eyes closed a brief moment, before coming again to meet hers.

"I'm not going to let you die, Sango."

Tears began pushing their way to the surface of her eyes, but none fell. She stared at him coldy.

"Even if I want to let myself?"

He stayed silent. Thoughts halted in the still, a question without an answer. He did have an answer though. He just didn't know how he could say that to her of all people. Sango. Bright, beautiful Sango...

"I-I'll leave that up to you. I'll be here... if you need me."

Both tremoring, the taijiya stood with an affirmative smile, tormented as she had to drag her eyes from his. Looking at him, there was a sort of calm she couldn't capture, nor describe. But withone hand on her hiraikotsu, the other steadying herself on the fence, she looked away to the boy.

His eyes were frozen, out of reach. And still, she wanted nothing but to save him. If death was the answer, so be it! She would have his happiness. Because his happiness was her happiness. And all of her heart was broken, scattered with pieces of his.

He didn't even blink, as she readied herself. The chains hung low to the ground, his knees bent in position. The thought that he really didn't know who she was pained her. The notion that he wasn't really her brother, but a shell, in which her brother was contained, angered her. Kohaku would never have been so ruthless. So violent.

He never had liked taking life either. Not even when some village boys accidentally killed a bird. He'd insisted on holding a funeral. But that was just who Kohaku was. No longer.

She should've died with him. And she made up her mind - she would die again with him. The way things should be. She couldn't carry on, if that wound in her soul was still fresh!

With one glance back at the monk, Sango felt herself almost torn. And yet she turned herself back to her brother, and emmersed herself in but one thing.

And that was their salvation.

End of Chapter 1


	2. Blood

**Every Time**

Chapter 2: Blood

**Disclaimer**: Don't own.

Small feet scampered through the village underfoot. Not stopping, he darted in and out of anywhere those he sought might be.

"Kagome! Inuyasha!"

Dodging a man with a cart, the kistune stopped for a breath. A shout met his small, furry ears from afar;

"Oi! There be a youkai slayin' goin' on!"

Astonished gasps echoed, as half of the people started running for shelter, and the other half tried for good seats. Frightened, Shippou called out again.

"Inuyasha! Kagome!"

But his shouts were lost within the fray.

OoOooO

Though rays of the sun dappled the field, the mood was anything but fitting. A cool spring breeze touched the fine hairs on the girl's shoulder, brushing them away. They danced in front of her disheartened sepia eyes, staring forwards desperately. Across from her, a pair of similiar coloured orbs gazed back without feeling, lacking any sort of concious. No emotion.

Neither moved. Sango tried to breath, but it was hard. Her lungs felt heavy, as if filled with lead. She would be ready to move at a moment's notice, and yet she remained frozen, silent. A whisper came from behind her, nothing but a murmur from concerned lips. A third pair, relentless indigo, watched as their owner leaned against a chipped wooden fence. As the scene unfolded, his heart began to pound faster, as if it would leap right from his flesh, leaving an empty, bleeding cavity.

Never in his life had the monk felt so lonely. As an only child, an orphan at that, he'd never known family, nor true friendship. In that way, he envyed Sango. And he reveled in the close bonds he'd somehow forged with her and the others.

These thoughts seemed pathetic to think, though, as he saw red droplets fly from the freshly made wound on her shoulder...

"Sango!"

Kirara's ears twitched. Knowing the kistune would never find those he sought in time, she gave the monk a quick nod before heading for town. Bounding over roof-tops, she was desperate to save her mistress. When the girl was driven by pain, she became ever so weak, blindly determined.

Sango's hand covered the light wound, blood pushing through between her fingers, dribbling down her knuckles. She grunted, rushing forward to block the chain scythe as it came back, just barely evading the strike to her neck. She swung her hiraikotsu back, cursing the normal woman's garb she wore, as it limited her movements.

Meanwhile, a small crowd had begun to form, it's droning slowly growing louder. Composed of mostly the village-men, they stood just close enough to get a good veiw.

"All of you! Get away!"

Their attentions were redirected to the monk, glaring at them from his place. He raised his staff strongly, pointing away.

"If you care to live past this night, you will immiediately leave the vicinity!" he commanded, voice strong, "This is no demon slaying as you have assumed, but a battle you have no business in! Leave, now!"

With slight grumbles, the herd migrated back into the town, eyes still fixed on the monk. The pair clashing behind him were unwatched, though, as the battle continued fiercely. A strike to the leg, blocked, just barely. Sango jumped away, unaware of anything around except her lost brother.

No matter how hard she tried, why could she never get past Naraku's tricks? She used to be so strong, and she still was, but... the hanyou had weakened her. Had taken away all she loved. And without that, it was hard to even breath.

As much as she denied them, maybe she did need the others' help...

"Kohaku!" she tried desperately as he followed her, "Try and remember me, please!"

For a moment, his memory screamed in anguish at him. Her face... the tears rising... were familiar and yet...it wasn't. There was nothing there, save a large black hole.

He didn't really want to kill her. But he really didn't have a choice. Master told him to. Told him that woman wanted to hurt him, like she tried to before. Did she try to before? Again, he didn't know. But Master was usually right. Master knew his pain, and was able to take it away. Master made everything that much better.

To add insult to injury, he didn't even make sign that he heard her. Her eyebrows furrowed, memory of nightmares drowning her. She saw him like that. Killing. Killing her father. Killing everyone that she'd ever loved, and ever would love. And destroying all the good moments along with them. If she could have him back, maybe all those moments would become reality again. They could slay again, together. Their clan could be given proper respects, and they could continue. Start again!

'I want you back, Kohaku!'

His weapon was cold in his sweaty hands, the chain almost slipping. The girl whipped around, swinging her weight to give power to her weapon. It sang as it flew towards him, the impact seeming inevitable.

And yet it never came, as he jumped up and away.

Off-balance, she felt herself slip. Her legs tangled under her, and she damned her lack of katana, or any other weapon. It'd been warm that day... having such things underneath the yukata made living all the more unbearable. She'd let Kagome put them in her over-sized backpack, so there was no hope in using those.

The dirt was bitter in her mouth, the grass just as disgusting. She rolled away quickly, feelingKohaku's blade knick her already injured arm.A sick feeling ofdebility came over her as she stood again, barely escaping. The stench of more blood hit her nostrils. Almost reaching her weapon, she was again confronted with the numb metal. Foot over foot she stumbled backwards. The hiraikotsu had been abandoned, too far to reach.

Her head throbbed, muscles suddenly very tired. Hopping backwards, her attempts began to fail. Life suddenly seemed far off, and sound distant, as the blade came ever so close. Slowly, slowly, impending death. She barely had time to blink.

"Sango!"

She felt herself hit the ground hard, after being stuck in mid-air a few seconds. Her body's intuition made her get up and look around. She knew she hadn't been hit, but...

The clanking of metal meeting wood caught her ear, directing her attentions left. The monk held his staff somewhat horizontal in front of him, the chain wrapped heavily around it. The creaking sounds gave the impression it was about to crack, and the look on his face showed it. Eyes determined and teeth gritted, he showed anything but fear.

"Houshi-sama..."

Sango felt herself grow even more unwell, as if her stomach would climb up and out of her mouth itself. Closing her eyes as second to try and wash out the heat, she let her weight fall to her knees.

Finally, strength regained, and the battle still in stalemate as both the houshi and the taijiya had untangled themselves, she found her tongue.

"Houshi-sama, go, this is my fight!"

His eyes flashed to her for a second before he was forced to swing around to dodge his opponents weapon.

"I want you to have what you wish Sango! And if you are killed, you can't very well succeed!"

"But-"

He grunted, and she noticed things had changed since she last saw him. There were slashes down his front, one on his scalp, the red liquid trickling down his face. Had she passed out for a while? Most likely. Regardless, shecrawled for her hiraikotsu, eyes away from the two. She would fight. It wasn't any of Miroku's business! He was supposed to have his own revenge, not hers...

The next few minutes blended together in her memory, which had begun to get very fuzzy even then. As she finally reached her weapon, she heard a scream of sorts. Blood was near everywhere. The stench had grown even more powerful, intoxicating.

"Houshi-sama!"

Just one heart-bitten word drifted on the air, silence in the void. The wind was still, and all movement halted. Her legs began to move, though she didn't remember telling them to do so, bringing her closer to him.

The sickening thud of a body landing awkwardly. Bones snapping. Blood spraying onto the ground.

"Houshi-sama!"

No words came from his slightly parted lips, only slow exhalation. The hazy indigo of his eyes seemed out of focus, as if he were looking for something he couldn't see. She felt herself kneel beside him, palms slapping the ground hard, rocks and stones creating abrasion on the calloused skin.

"Houshi...sama..."

OoOooO

Fingers lightly traced the cut on his scalp. It had been cleaned for the most part, but there were still remnants of blood in his tangled hair. Two eyes, one a little swollen, hadn't opened for a few hours. His breathing was variegated, sometimes quick and shallow, other times long, almost strained. And yet, he didn't wake.

"Shippou and Kirara got us as fast as they could," Kagome whispered to the girl, who knelt solemnly by the monk's side.

"It's my fault..." Sango murmured, and the other shook her head. Kirara slept in the corner, unharmed, and the injuries of the taijiya were minimal, or so she insisted. Kagome and Inuyasha had arrived in time to comprehend the situation, and watch as Kohaku stopped cold, and ran back into the foliage.

"He's dying," came a rough voice from the doorway. Looking up, the two found their red-clad hero.

"I know that's not what you wanna hear," He continued, "But he's only mortal. I don't know how much blood he really lost, but..."

Sango's eyes were cast downward, smoldering.

"It's my fault..."

End of Chapter 2


	3. Tarnished

**Every Time**

AN: I'm back, with another revised chapter. Japanese removed, as werethe lyrics.Review responses!

**HMPrune** - It breaks my heart when charries I love die, but sometimes a sad ending is best...

**parsnip **- You use a lot of big words. And good job, it takes quite a bit to motivate me.

**audi katia** - His life is in my hands... bwahaha... oh dear, I feel a power trip coming on...

**Fred The Mutant Pickle** - We do think a lot alike... it scares me too! Where do you read the manga online?

**BaByXbOoX143** - kills me to type your name. Angsty goodness rules! My writing technique... I have a technique? Cool.

**Holders-of-the-ShikonJewel** - I tend to near-kill Miroku a lot... sorry. To answer your question, I've lived nearly fourteen years, and your philosophy is interesting.

Disclaimer: Nuh-uh.

Chapter 3: Tarnished

(Flashback)

Any dust that had been stirred in the movements formerly portrayed were still, fallen back to the soil. Languishing eyes of burnt sienna looked up, to watch a figure dissapear with the glinting of chain. Shouts came from behind her, however her ears were unhearing. A whimper was elicited from the body she knelt aside, drawing back her attentions.

Blood...

So much blood...

She could barely keep her eyes open, it was so empowering. Desperately trying to calm herself, she lifted a tremoring hand from her waist, and reached it towards the empty spaces where in her younger brother had been.

And more than ever, she wished to be dead.

(End Flashback)

Droplets of clean water dripped back into the small bowl, as two dainty, yet calloused hands wrung out a washcloth. Some of it splashed up the edges to spill onto the cool floor. Though the room was filled with beings, it felt ever so empty. The one with the cloth refused to speak much to the others, turning back to the monk. Beneath him, a make-shift blanket had been spread. In actuality, it was the skirt of the taijiya's normal outfit, as she had insisted on it's usage.

"Sango-chan..." Kagome murmured, reaching over to her friend. Her fingers brushed the wound on said girl's shoulder, causing her to wince.

"We should bandage this," Kagome stated, though Sango paid no heed.

"It's not important."

"But it could get infected, or-"

"Leave it, Kagome-chan, please!" the taijiya shook the girl off, eyes cold. Under her breath, barely heard; "I have to make sure at least one of them lives..."

Kagome balled her fists, unwilling to give up. She reached for her first-aid kit, hearing a snort from the doorway.

"It's useless, Kagome."

"But-"

The hanyou shook his head, giving heran arrogant look. "Y'know, maybe you were right then. But it's not in your hands, now is it?"

Kagome bit her bottom lip, communicating with him through her eyes. 'Right?' He must've meant... that day, quite a while ago, when she'd told him her theories of the growing relationship between the taijiya and the houshi. Well, it was sort ofobvious, wasn't it? Not obvious, no. But there, nonetheless.

'Even in the way she looks at him... and the way he looks away from her sometimes...'

And they thought their attempts at chicanery were adequate.

Snorting, Inuyasha crossed his arms and turned away. His footsteps could be heard down the empty hallway of the inn they were staying in. Fully paid for, of course, just one room. The only reason the villagers were even tolerating them was this apparent 'demon slaying', and Sango's thoughts were heavy on her shoulders.

'They thought Kohaku... was a demon...

'The look in his eyes wasn't human. It wasn't even alive! But I saw him! I did! Kohaku is still there!

'...isn't he?'

Kagome stood as well, hovering near behind her friend. Shippou had been shooed out, and was currently exploring the village, leaving only four in the room, including a sleeping Kirara.

"If you need us Sango-chan... We're... We're here for you."

The hand dabbing the washcloth on the man's forehead stopped. Her shoulders gave small movement, as if she were in pain, which Kagome didn't doubt she was.

"I'm sorry..."

Bowing her head, Kagome felt her own eyes begin to well with brackish liquids. "It's alright, Sango-chan..."

"I shouldn't have snapped at you."

"I understand."

Kagome took this as her cue to leave, but harboured no offenses towards the broken-hearted teen. She snuck one last look at the mismatched pair before heading down after Inuyasha, light on her feet. Sango waited until she was sure Kagome had leftbefore opening her eyes once more. It'd only been mear hourssince Kohaku had attacked. It seemed like years, as things always did. Why, was unknown.

And why her heart felt like it had died... well, she could only guess her own answer.

She looked down at him, sweeping back muddy black hair to reveal abrasions decorating his brow. Such a routine had become nearly common. Somehow, she always ended up tending to him. Not that she minded. It was something that needed to be done. And sometimes in his weakened state, she could almost see someone else behind his mask.

"But what would you say," she mumbled to him, groping for the disinfectant Kagome had brought, "If you were here now?"

She imagined his soft indathrene eyes opening, his breath a little more constant. Looking up at her. His actions would be obvious, but she would blindly play along. As always. It would be so much easier if things were like that. Even if he was being a lecher. She'd rather see him happy than tormented. Happiness was something that seemed so far away those days...

"Just pretend it's normal," she told herself, trying to erase weighted thought from her mind. She sprayed the disinfectant onto his face, making sure none dripped towards his eyes. Yes, it was just normal, and she was just playing nurse. She was caring for him with her hands, healing his wounds. She could do nothing for his heart.

"I can't help but pity you..." she spoke to the body, wiping away the blood dried sweat coating his temples. Silly, she knew, but the words just came!

"I was so fortunate... I had my father and brother," she lay the bangs flat against his forehead again, though they stayed messy, "I had Kirara... I had everything I wanted."

With what could almost be a sob, she began fussing with his hair, trying to push it down. Yet the tresses refused to be reasonable, and kept their shape. She wound a strand around her finger, testing it's strength and coarse texture, then let it unwind, as it fell off to his temple.

"And you..." she felt herself begin to break, "You had nothing, but nameless women passing you by. And yet... you seem happy... why do you seem so happy!"

She got fed up with making his hair orderly, and settled back on her ankles. A tearless sob echoed through the small room. The neko in the corner remained sleeping, leaving her mistress alone.

Sango let out a small cry, letting her heart breath. He did not wake from here sound or noise. Only his own injury plagued him, head jerking slightly as torment raked through his unconcious mind.The taijiyashuddered as well, backing up a little. She didn't want to leave him. But she didn't want to stay by him either. If he were to wake up in see her in such a state, worried and undone.

Tears forming again in her eyes, Sango looked down at her hands. They were shaking.

"Why...?" she mumbled to herself, not quite knowing what she herself had meant by the word. The image began to blur, shaking even more furiously as she began to lean into herself for support.

It was as if something were eating her from the inside...

"Oh, Gods... why?"

Her tarnished heart beat rapidly as the man beside her began to stir. A moan escaped his lips, a hand tightening against the cloth beneath him.

"Mi- Houshi-sama!" Sango nearly fell, as she pushed towards him, hair falling awkardy in her face. Blowing it away, she gazed down at the man, whose eyes had begun to open. Eyebrows furrowed, sweat rolling down pale skin.Slowly his lashes parted, and underneath was a frozen curtain of hazy solferino. Staring up at her, trying to grasp what was going on. He blinked a few times, as if his eyelids had been glued shut.

"Sa... San...go..."

She pushed all emotion back inside of her, trying hopelessly to slow her pulse. Gently she reached a hand beneath his head, letting him rest upon it. Still struggling, his fingers clawed at the material, reaching for a lost cause.

"Try not to talk," she said in a clipped voice. The monk gazed up at her again, his movements becoming more somniferous. With sharp inhalation, he turned suddenly on his side, letting out a short yelp, followed by coughing.

Blood splattered onto the ground.

Sango moved her other hand around to support him, trying to keep him from getting the crimson liquids all over his face. Just holding him there, a short distance from her, she felt more helpless than she ever had.Miroku let out a long breath, and Sango finally realized just how dampened her cheeks were. So much for keeping unattached. So much... for life...

"Sango..."

"I said don't speak, dammit!" she muttered angrily. She didn't even bother to get a cloth, just using her own fingers to wipe the blood from around his lips. And for once all she wanted him to do was to grope her and laugh. That was all she wanted. Oh, but she had wanted for so many things...

"I...Please, Sango..."

She removed her fingers from his murmuring lips, caught in his intense glare. Eyes half-closed, his hand moved to catch hers, tight. He shook, seeming so brittle. As if teetering, so close to the edge of death. Finally, he was able to regain himself, the taijiya's tears dropping onto his cheek. Small pools of water, soon mingled with his own.

"Please, kill me."

OooOo

End of Chapter 3


	4. Deora Ar Mo Chroi

**Every Time**

The title of this chapter is that of an Enya song. It means 'the tears on my heart', in Irish.

**Disclaimer**: Je n'own pas Inuyasha. 

Chapter 4: Deora Ar Mo Chroi

(Flashback)

"Houshi-sama..." Sango felt herself grow even more unwell, as if her stomach would climb up and out of her mouth itself. Closing her eyes for only a second to try and wash out the heat, she let herself fall to her knees, her weight shifting forward. Her hands went out in front of her, but her elbows caved. She hit the ground face first, without scream or resistance. And for long minutes after, she didn't move, eyes unwatching.

'No wonder,' Miroku thought, raising his staff to block another strike, 'It was probably too much for her.'

Kohaku's face was sickeningly blank as he struck again and again, weakening the monk a little more each time. Cuts and scrapes turned into gashes and soon-to-be bruises. And yet Miroku could do nothing.

He could do nothing, as blood tinted his vision, just long enough for Kohaku to reach for that which his master had him create...

Slick with blood, slick the blade...

And with eerie percision, sliced across the monk's side. Blood dripping down, flesh burning and stinging. A hand clutched to the wound, as his eyes danced again to the unconcious taijiya.

"Sango..."

Voice stuck in her throat, the woman stared down at the monk, who gripped her hand as if it were his only lifeline. Which it probably was. The words had become drowned by silence, but echoed in her ears still. Torment.

'Please, kill me.'

He blinked a few times, to clear his vision. Tears leaked from his eyes, just a few, but more than Sango'd ever seen come from him. Come to think of it, she'd never seen him cry at all.

'Please, kill me.'

'I won't... I can't...'

"S-Sango?" he squinted, as if he thought her but a figment of his own delirium.

"I won't let you die!" she yelled, tightening her grip on his hand. The skin stretched, revealing bleached knuckles, and yet he didn't cry out, didn't chastise her. Breath steady as she bit her annatto bottom lip, her eyes searched him hopelessly. He would really give up on life... and it was her fault. All her fault, and she couldn't stop it. Before, she'd tried to make sure nothing of this sort would happen. And yet...

Eyes hazy. Wounds bandaged and still bleeding lightly. He turned over again to cough, shoulders raking with a chill, and things began to make sense, or at least more than they had. Sango grabbed for another strip of cloth, letting her hand support his face once again. With the other she mopped his blood, wincing. She felt him breath, and her heart pounded harder, tears dried and unflowing.

"Miroku..."

What use then was there for formalities?

"I know... you probably don't blame me for this, and you should," she muttered, throwing the blooded strip away. "But you... you're not going to die."

'Not if I can help it.'

She took another deep inhalation.

"Kohaku poisoned you, didn't he? He put something on his blade..."

'I can save you. I can make it better.'

Miroku took a second to process the information, then nodded bleakly. He opened his mouth to speak, but her glare shut him up. His throat was too raw to do much without pain anyways.

"I won't let you die..." she told him forcefully. And she wanted so badly for him to believe it. But the poison had been in his body for more than a few hours... That was the beauty of it, too. Undetectable for the first two or so hours, during which it spreads through the bloodstream. It first triggered chills, then activated in the lungs, eating the flesh slowly, putting the victim in tantalizing misery. She was hoping it hadn't gotten much further.

Naraku had known then.

It was one of the unique poisons used by the taijiya. An odourless, green liquid, that her father had perfected. Kohaku had used iton small practice demons,or asa rat poison. He never liked killing the pests outright... so he laid out poisoned food for them.

"Okay?" Sango asked, and Miroku nodded again. She closed her eyes, and tried to pry herself away.

'What if he dies while I'm gone?

'Don't be a coward! If you don't go, he will die!

'He'll die and it's all your fault...' a malicious voice whispered from within her. Biting her lip again, nearly breaking skin, the taijiya gazed into his heavy-lidded eyes. Her fingers traced a forming scab up the side of his head, resting lightly above his ear, weaving in between the strands. She closed her eyes, and leaned down, unsure as he watched her. Then, eyes closed, she pressed her lips to his forehead.

Miroku felt it, even through his slowed and blurry conciousness. The soft caress of her lips, and yet he could do nothing to enhance it, for fear of poisoning her as well, and the fact that he was mostly paralyzed. In his mind, questions formed. And yet he didn't listen to any of them, sweeping a hand up to rest on her shoulder. Both were shaking. Both were afraid.

And he wanted to stay forever with her like that. But in barely three seconds, she was pulling away, running for the door. Her foot knocked over the bowl, water sloshing onto the floor.

oOooOo

'I don't want to remember... Don't let me remember... Even her face, it hurts me... I think I did something wrong again... but I don't know why! He told me to, was that it?

'I don't want to hurt people anymore... I don't even want to live anymore... But something ties me here... Someone wants me to stay...

'I don't want to hurt her anymore.'

Kohaku looked down at his hands. So many gaps, and things he didn't remember. He didn't know who he was... his name had even escaped him.

There were sounds, and smells. Sometimes even little pictures, unmoving, floated across his eyes before he found himself back in the cold, unforgiving, and untelling world. It was like a maze, entrapment of one's soul. Yet the poor boy didn't know, and couldn't. He wouldn't let himself. And though his heart struggled, it couldn't quite forgive itself.

The odour on his hands was faint, still, as they had been thoroughly numbed by river-water by the time he'd come to. But his mousy nose knew the smell, and his freckled cheeks paled, the spots standing out even more. Then he grew feverish and his stomach purged.

Of course a taijiya would know the smell of blood. Human blood. Two different people. And one of the scents, as far as his human senses could detect... was very, very familiar. Alike to his own.

He rubbed his hands on the grass desperately, whimpering a little despite himself.

'I'm lost, and there's no one to guide me...

'Sometimes, when I'm alseep there's a light. There's someone in that light, caling to me. But below me, someone is drowning in what looks like black ink. It covers her, as she cries and screams. And I reach down, as she's reaching for me, and I fall into the ink-pot too. The ink covers me, and she holds onto me, as we both reach for the surface. And she screams something that I think is my name.'

He looked at his hands, displeased. An insect buzzed overhead, stopping to take some sap from the branch that had cracked pretty much away from the trunk, probably from a storm or the like. It teetered in the slight wind, threatening to fall. Just like that, it could slip, and that whole community of life would be lost. Kohaku looked at it, the little bug nearly upsetting the tipping branch, and reached for his chain-scythe. He stood, then turned around, eyes determined. He felt he had to prove something, whether to himself or anyone else, he didn't know.

He reached his hand back and flung the weapon forwards, feeling the metal run through his fist before it struck the branch. It lerched, teetered, but shifted into a rut into the tree. Perfectly balanced.

The insect that had been drinking the sap got bored and flew off, buzzing happily it's own tune.

OooOo

A sea of bodies stretched before her, lanterns hanging from stalls to light the marketplace. The village was a rather large one, and full of shops and the like. And it seemed the nightlife was even more, well, alive than that of the day. Weaving her way though the crowd, Sango cursed under her breath, using words even Inuyasha might shudder at. Her patience was wearing very thin. The healer of the town... where was that place! She'd seen it before during the day, if only she could recall the location!

Her stomach growled as the sweet aromas hit her hard, reminding her that she hadn't eaten anything since that afternoon. Just before...

She winced, squeezing agains an obese man and a tall, grim-faced woman to get to where she wanted to be. That poison... surely Naraku had orchestrated the event with knowledge of it. But to what extent? Did he mastermind even Miroku's interference, or was she the real target? Was the town just a setting for his trap, or did coincidence play a card as well.

Was she being watched, even then? She didn't doubt it in the least. How much did Naraku know, about all of them. Maybe even things about her, that she herself didn't fully realize. How much she really... wanted...

Shaking the mind baggage from her, Sango tripped, taking a few off-balance steps. Finding herself in a much shadier part of the village, the taijiya knew she was getting close. The building off to her right did look pretty familiar. To the left!

"Oi! Look at the pretty young thing here!"

A hand took a sweaty, yet firm hold on her wrist, and an ineibriated laugh sounded. She tried to pull away, but found herself unable to break his grasp.

"Let go of me, you pig!" Sango yelled, anxious to get the herbs she needed, struggling against him with vengeance. Something human touched her back, purpousely, and her leg went flailing out. It made solid contact with someone's side, but she herself toppled into her first attacker. Her breasts pressed against his front painfully and he laughed again, his sour breath causing her to gag.

"Precious girlie can't stay away from me!" he exclaimed, moving his other hand clumsily onto her shoulder. The exact spot Miroku's hand had been, so comforting, was now a spot of clammy discomfort.

"Don't!" the taijiya shrieked, her heartbeat speeding up. She needed to get those herbs, and soon! Else Miroku...

"Come on, girlie, surely ya don' mind me touchin' ya!" Greasy hair, pulled up into a topknot, this man was a regular monster. And he couldn't be less than twice her age!

"There's only..." she wrestled her way nearly out of his hold, slamming her fists against him.

"Wazzat, girlie?"

Turning her bright and fierce eyes to him, Sango sent a punch directly to his face.

"There's only one man allowed to touch me!"

oOooOo

The room seemed empty without her. In the corner, Kirara had stirred from her slumber, looking sorrowfully at the monk. Like a block of ice, he stared to the ceiling. His hand trembled, wanting to reach for the recent memory of his care-taker.

Sango. She had... kissed him. She told him she would save him. And even those notions made him happy enough to die. But he would not take his own life, for that would only sadden her further. He didn't want his Sango to be sad.

She'd kissed him. There on the forehead. Her lips against his skin, just chastly, but it broke his heart into a million pieces. He'd wanted to give it to her. But both had been tainted by unfortunate circumstance. How did he even know if she would take it... he knew he couldn't. It would only cause more harm to them all.

The memory replayed again, and he watched it. Wishing he could talk, say something to her. Tell her things she might not want to hear, but things that were true! Or true as he saw them. He didn't want to die suffering, unhonorably. At least if it was Sango's hand behind the blade...

"I should've known."

Kirara mewed lightly, and he sighed. Sango had said she could save him...

His heart seized, and he knew the toxin was... was there, and...

'My Sango...'

Then there was only crimson stained darkness.

End of Chapter 4


	5. Fade

**Every Time**

Chapter 5: Fade

Lyrics removed, Japanese removed, on with the show.

**Disclaimer**: Ebony equals student. Student equals no money. No money equals no Inuyasha.

o

(flashback)

Drip...

Drip...

Tiny pools of scarlet onto the ground. Dripping from the soaked violet robes. The wounds had been lightly covered, but not much could be done until they settled. The wind had picked up, and night was coming fast. It wasn't smart to try and cleanse wounds in the dark.

His head was tilted back so you could see the pale skin of his neck, forming a rough arch, bangs flipped back to tumble with the rest of his hair. Lightly tanned skin and blood. Cuts, scrapes. His head bobbed slightly as Inuyasha carried him. The hanyou's face was a mask, and Kagome knew better than to pester him. Shippou, the poor soul, was trudging along by Kirara's feet. Atop the demon cat, Sangohad beenslung. The wound on her shoulder had pretty much stopped bleeding at that time.

"We can stay in this place," Inuyasha said gruffly, motioning to the inn on their right. "It'll cost us, though. How much we got?"

"Enough," the schoolgirl mumbled, and they headed towards the door. Through the door a sticky aroma wafted, and a man sang drunkenly, chorused by females.

"After all," Kagome said reassuringly for all of them, herself included, "There is no price on life."

The candle flickered dimly in the window, and neither the taijya, nor the houshi stirred, as the last piece of sunshine hid itself behind the horizon.

(end flashback)

o

"There's only one man allowed to touch me!"

Clutching his brusing face, the man stumbled forwards towards her. Her body reeling in pain from the force she exerted, she decided not to attack again until it was direly necessary.

"You know..." the slurred voice came, near to her face, "You're not a bad lookin' girl."

"Get away," Sango said through her clenched teeth. Maybe punching the man before hadn't been such a great idea. The wound on her shoulder felt worse, like it was on fire. She wouldn't be able to use her right arm much. Her body was still weary aw well, Kagome's medicin usually did make her a little drowsy. And the effects hadn't quite worn off.

"You married?" the first man, the one with a scar on his face, asked. She shook her head, watching the second man, the bearded one, closely as well. She took a step back.

"Got a lover then, is that what ya were talkin' 'bout?" Scar Face inquired, and she shook her head again. He looked confused, reaching a hand out for her.

"Whatcha talkin' 'bout then? Seiya, the girl's a crazy one!"

Seiya, or Beard Man, laughed loudly, and began moving around his friend as to cut off Sango. She saw this immeidiately, and began at a sprint. Yet she only succeeded in knocking in Beard Man, as Scar Face had caught onto her hair. He let go as she fell into Beard Man, and they both were pulled to the earth by a little thing called gravity. She forehead knocked into his collarbone, her forearms across his chest. He was fairly muscular from work in the field, she could feel that (much to her disgust) though his plain robe. Both of them were just farmers, so she guessed.

"The girlie wants it, wants it bad," Scar Face said, as reference to the position she'd landed in with her other attacker. Sango tried pushing herself away, but his arms held her in. Pulse beginning to race with dread, she struggled further. He caught her thighs between his legs, so she couldn't use any kicks. Instead she dug her nails into his shoulder, but this only caused slight discomfort to him. He was rather drunk...

'...wants it, wants it bad...'

She knew exactly what it was.

In a sudden burst of fear and urgency throbbing through her, Sango found strength returning, rushing through her. She rocked herself right, and then left, tipping onto her back, the bearded man on top of her still, a confused exopression becoming him.

All she could see in the back of her mind... was a memory of his face...

The man's weight pushing down on her, she swung her legs up to her chest, then pushed them out once more, straight into his stomach. Gasping in pain, he let go of her long enough for the taijiya to roll away. Seconds later, he crashed to the ground, head spinning.

Sango stood, looking furiously at the man still standing, watching. Her fists were clenched, and the wound on her shoulder had re-opened under the strain.

"As I said before," she said firmly, "There is only one man allowed to touch me, and neither of you are that man. Please, tell me which way the healer's is!"

The man looked dazed for a second, then pointed, all the while staring at the young woman. She nodded, still glaring, and began sprinting towards her destination. Pouring every bit of strength she had into it. She could rest later... there were much more important matters at hand. The sound of blood rushing, heart pounding inside her head was becoming all too familiar.

And again, she saw his face...

o

"Inuyasha."

"Ah... Yeah?"

Kagome sighed, looking up at the hanyou perched up in the tree. He glanced down at her, then looked away once more, stubborn.

"Could you come down?"

"Tch. Why?"

"Maybe we should go back and check on Sango and Miroku..."

"That's stupid!"

"You're being inconsiderate!"

"So? It's not my goddamned fault he's hurt!"

"Osuwari!"

The red-clad hanyou promptly fell face-first from the tree, a dust cloud rising as he hit the ground. Pulling himself up, he prepared for Kagome's harsh words. But instead...

"I'm just worried..." she said softly, "He might die...!"

He couldn't tell her Miroku wouldn't die. That would be lying, and it wouldn't do any good. But it wasn't certain he would die either. They at least had that chance. That chance, Inuyasha had to admit, he was hoping for.

"Sango will take care of him," Inuyasha told her, brushing himself off, "Don't worry!"

Kagome bit her lip, leaning against the trunk of the tree. Inuyasha bowed his head, rolling his lips inward, licking them. No emotion showed, not any definite ones, anyways.

'Don't worry...'

"We'll go back in a bit, okay?" Kagome asked quietly.

"Whatever."

o

Drip...

Drip...

Tiny pools of scarlet onto the ground.

o

The water had remained spilled on the wood floor, though the coolness had long gone. The bowl was tipped, some water still in the bottom. Kirara paced in small circles, watching the mostly-silent man in the one corner. He murmured sometimes, looked pained. But he seemed to be repressing it. And as a cat, she could only wait patiently for her mistress' return.

Fortunately that was soon, as hurried footsteps came down the hall, loudly, coupled wih heavy breathing. Finally, Sango slid open the door, collapsing on her knees. In one hand was a bottle, the antidote swirling inside.

"Mi-Miroku-u..." her eyes were tightly shut, and her bags were drenched in sweat. "I'm back, I-"

She looked over, noticing his silence. Kirara mewed happily, and jumped onto her mistress's shoulder. Sango steadied her with one hand, feeling her begin to examine the bleeding of the taijiya's other shoulder. But Sango was already crawling towards Miroku, a sense of dread growing in her chest.

"Miroku?" she whispered, putting the bottle down, using her free hand to lightly touch his cheek. Cold. But he was breathing, he wasn't dead... not yet.

"You're not going to die on me!" she hissed, opening the bottle, "I almost got fucking raped, and you are not going to die on me!"

Kirara licked at her cheek, but Sango only shooed her away. Time was slipping away to fast. It seemed like they'd hardly spent any time together. She'd been meaning to get to know him better. To get to know them all better! A long list of events that could've happened, but some were becoming permanent, ever to be unfinished.

'I wanted to know...'

Her hands carefully tilted back Miroku's neck, his breathing a little hoarse. Carefully, she pulled his lips apart, wincing, as her had began to ache, and things began to spin. It was if the world was crushing her. But she refused to be crushed. Taking the bottle, she brought it to her lips, and irony struck her.

'You're going to have to give it by mouth...' she imagined him saying.

"You stupid lecher," she mumbled, and parted her lips for the bitter liquid. It had taken her and the old lady a while to mix it, but luckily all the required herbs were found.

A cure.

A hope.

Pinching his nose, Sango put her lips to his.

'Swallow... Please swallow...'

The liquid trickled into his mouth from hers, and he stirred lightly under her. Her heart sobbed and screamed, but she refused to move until he swallowed, or choked, or some sign to show he hadn't gone fully under.

'Swallow, dammit!'

A strange gasping sound came from the monk, and the liquid splashed up, but some of it was swallowed. Sweet life, she could feel his heartbeat picking up! She grabbed for the bottle, watching him shiver, so beneath under her.

"You need to swallow," she uttered, taking another drink.

Was this her first kiss?

'It's not a kiss,' she told herself, flustered. And in truth it wasn't, but she couldn't help but blush anyways, bending over him once more. She remembered, not less than a half hour before, when something had possessed her to kiss his forehead. The taste stil lingered, she could not rid herself of it. What made a kiss a kiss? The love shared in it?

Lips to lips, the liquid passed through. Unsure of how much poison was in him, she guessed he needed about five more sips, to be on the safe side. Lips against lips, she drew away again, and he coughed, eyes half-open.

"Sango?"

"You need more of the antidote," she whispered. Miroku nodded, and half-smiled.

"Thank you."

Sango grabbed the bottle, and put one hand on his shoulder to steady herself. No more words were spoken between them in the minutes that passed. She fought hard to keep herself stable and calm, but it was indeed hard. Especially with the feeling of what could be a kiss. At one point, she could've sworn his mouth moved sorrowfully against hers, as if to say good-bye, or sorry. But she knew it could not be so.

Finally, there were only a few drops left in the bottle, and Miroku was at least partially awake. His breath was steady, though there was still pain. He ignored though, using every meditation technique he knew, and instead focused on Sango. His vision was pained and rather unclear, but through it he could see her, and the wreck she'd become.

"Your wound," he tried propping himself, but she promptly placed a hand on each of his shoulders and forced him to lie back down.

"I'm fine," she urged him, "I'll dress it now, if that makes you happy, alright? No looking."

She smiled bleakly. He looked away to the wall, face still grim, and whispered "I'm sorry."

"Sorry?" she choked, "Why on earth would you be sorry?"

"You were so worried about me... you-"

"Shut up," she hissed, "Now. I don't want to hear it."

"Sa-"

"I'm going to bandage my goddamned shoulder, alright? Just be quiet."

He closed his eyes, listening to the rustling of material as she pulled back the sleeve of her yukata, the wound dirty, and it would surely fester if it were left to long. She ignored how right he was, and went about taking her arm out of the sleeve, a painful job, and cleansing it. She winced as it stung, knowing her heart hadn't quite settled. She glanced back, making sure the monk hadn't taken a peak.

Strangely enough, he was lying, back to her, Kirara curled up near to his head. His breath was steady. But surely he was in pain. She knew, from watching a rat once that had eaten the poison, it didn't wear off quickly. Even with the antidote it had taken afterwards. Well, at least Miroku didn't seem to have much trouble seeing. The next place it attacked was usually the eyes, and the antidote reached there last.

The blind rat, wandering around, bumping into things. Kohaku had felt sorry for it, and wanted to keep it as a pet. But taijiya don't keep rats as pets. He had had to let the rat go. And the next day, they found it dissected by the river, by an owl, or maybe a fox. Kohaku dug a grave, and they had a funeral. It may have seemed silly, but Kohaku was deadly serious. He gave Sango the chore of killing the rats after that.

o

Kohaku looked up at his hand. A scar cut across it, thin and white. The hand was clean. It still felt numb from the river water, but his eyes played tricks on him. He kept seeing stains... But there was nothing.

He felt he had a place to be, someone was calling him home.

'Home? Where is home?'

His mind couldn't quite place it. His mind wanted him to stay there, under the tree. He looked up, the leaves creating a cover, and through the spaces in between, he could see the stars. Gleaming, and shining. He reached a hand up for their light, trying to capture it. With that light, he could find his way home.

Home.

The face passed through his thoughts again. Pained, and tormented. It made him want to be sick again. But he lived with the feeling. At least he didn't feel so empty anymore. That face filled up a little bit of the shell he was. He was a person, he had personality. And everyone had a past. His had just been lost, that was all.

"I'll find it," he told himself, tracing from one star to the next, "I'll make sure that... that woman isn't sad anymore..."

He imagined her face, the little pieces of it he could remember, turning bright and vivid. her tears evaporating, her lips turning up in smile, as if she were laughing. Her skin was free from dirt, sweat and blood. She was free. They could be free together.

He searched for her name, but could not find it. Just like the stars he grasped at, knowing they were too far away for him ever to touch.


	6. Hope

**Every Time**

**Disclaimer:** I would quite like to own Inuyasha, but I don't.

Chapter 6: Hope

There is no such thing as a perfect happy ending.

She knew this. She realized this the day her whole life was thrown off kilter.

But she could still try for it. Couldn't she?

Things don't always work out the way you mean them to.

The beautiful halo of light that is the horizon, moments before sunset. The light of the sunless sky, about to be plunged into dark. They say it's darkest before dawn. It works the other way, too.

Sometimes everything seems okay...

And indeed, it seemed okay.

It wasn't.

oOOOo

Sango pulled her yukata back onto her shoulders, noting all the rips and tears she'd surely have to mend. She beckoned to Kirara, who eagerly came, questioning her with wide and expressive eyes.

"Go find Kagome, and Inuyasha," her mistress said in hushed tones, "Everything is under control. Okay?"

Kirara nodded, and nuzzled her mistress's knee affectionately before Sango opened the door, and Kirara slipped out. Closing the door again, the taijiya turned to Miroku. He lay, back to her, and his breathing had slowed marginally. She smiled wistfully, crawling a little closer to him.

"Miroku..."

It felt nice to say his name. Houshi-sama, Houshi-sama, it'd always been. Would it go back to that once morning came? She fingered lightly the bandage on her shoulder, visible through where the yukata had been slashed, not quite knowing what she was supposed to want. She licked her lips, the sour taste of the antidote still lingering. Did people have tastes too? Eyes closed, she tried to imagine what the monk would taste like, but quickly stopped herself.

"Miroku... Oh, I guess he's alseep," she retreated the hand reaching for him, sighing a little, "I should be too."

A slight groan came from the monk, and he rolled over. Eyebrows furrowed in slight distress, he winced in dream, then calmed again. His hair was even more messed up than before, and sticking out in some places. One arm was outstretched, his hand centimetres from Sango's. She let out the breath she was only half-aware of holding, and shifted her hand so her fingertips brushed his.

"You're okay..."

It wasn't another disaster. He was alive. There was still a glimmer, a hope, a spark inside of him that burned. Alive. Everything around her was alive, but she had barely appreciated it. You can't be grateful for life until you've known death, but then it's usually to late. Not this time, no...

The taijiya placed her hand in his, feeling his fingers move to accept her. The azure beads lay over his palm, and the soft purple silk, behind which was the kazaana. The thought frightened her, and she didn't push on the fabric to test limits that fate would allow. She sewed her fingers into his, squeezing lightly. There was pulse, there was warmth, around the cold beads relaxing into her skin. Then tentatively, she reached over to push his hair back behind his ear.

Her hand jerked back as he stirred lightly, and she clutched it to her chest. It couldn't be erased that easily, the fear, the doubt. She didn't want to get to close, and have him be hurt again... And of all people, why would he care for her? She hadn't dreamed of marriage when she was small, like the other girls in her villiage, she aspired to slay large demons, to become strong. Love was a whole new territory.

Love. Is that what she would call it?

Indecisive, Sango began leaning down, carefully folding her right arm to rest her head on. She shifted her weigh to become somewhat comfortable, then her attentions were again focused on their hands, entertwined, together.

'He hasn't read my palm yet,' she thought with a smirk, but only held onto his hand tighter. When his hand was in hers, it couldn't grope her. And when his hand was with hers, it couldn't be with those stupid village girls that did him no good. False hopes.

'I will be your hope... Miroku.'

She closed her eyes and let herself sleep as well.

oOOOo

"There you are, ya little runt!"

Clawed fingers caught the material of Shippou's back, lifting him up to eye level. The kitsune stared tiredly at Inuyasha, then yawned.

"Kagome's been looking for you," the hanyou snorted as they began to walk, "She got real mad at me when she couldn't find you, too. Where ya been this whole night, anyway?"

"Played with..." another yawn, "Some kids..."

"They tease ya?"

"No."

"Good."

Shippou observed the older male's cold expression through heavy-lidded eyes, and couldn't quite figure it out. But in his dreary state, Shippou couldn't much care.

"Where're we going?" he mumbled, then shrieked as Inuyasha dropped him. "Aiie! What d'you do that for?"

"You can walk yourself, runt," Inuyasha rolled his shoulders, obviously stiff and a little worn from lack of sleep. Shippou scampered by and around his feet, looking up inquisitively.

"Did you and Kagome-chan get into another fight?"

"No."

"You sure?"

"Yes! It's none of your business anyways! She was just upset because..." his tone softened, "Because of Miroku. We think he's okay now. Kirara came and got us, but she didn't seem to think anything was wrong, so..."

"Is Sango okay?"

"A little heartsore, if anything," Inuyasha mumbled, "Stupid girl. You aren't supposed to fall in love with lechers." He paused, looking left, right, then sniffing the air. "This way."

A half-alseep Shippou followed him, puzzled at why Inuyasha hadn't hit him. But he knew it was most definitely not a good idea to ask. As they approached the inn, he heard his companion mutter something, but it was hidden under the roar of the crowd.

"You aren't supposed to fall in love with mikos, either..."

oOOOo

He holds death in the palm of his right hand, and it whispers to him, it whispers to him.

He does not listen.

Promises break and spill.

Play that song again.

The strings rise, a melodious cacophony hitting the air. Dance for me now, til your ankles bleed.

Searching, denying, trying.

Til you bleed

oOOOo

Kagome was leaning against a wall in the entrance room of the inn, looking rather nervously around. It was an inn, yes, but 'tavern' would've been a better description. The room consisted of a bar and a few tables, with men carousing, and some females laughing politely at their jokes. But it was warm inside, and she didn't want to freeze, waiting outside.

"Oi! Kagome!"

"Inuyasha!" her face lit up, with both enthusiasm and blush, and the hanyou approached her, Shippou in tow.

"What're you doing down here?" he asked, giving her a glare coated with accusation.

"Sango and Miroku are sleeping in the room," she said, "I didn't want to wake them. Kirara's keeping watch, though."

Inuyasha nodded gruffly, handing Shippou to her. "You should get to sleep too, we do have to head out tommorow. The brat's already beat."

"Mmm not," the kitsune muttered, feeling Kagome stroke his head softly.

"I'll head up then," she started down the hall, "Coming?"

"Yeah. In a bit." The hanyou crossed his arms, his eyes wandering over the scene before them. Kagome halted, turning back to him.

"Are you okay?"

"Keh. Why wouldn't I be?" he shook his head, "Go! I'm not gonna be carrying you tommorow if you're too tired to walk."

She gave him a smile, then nodded. "I'll see you in a bit."

To this he said nothing, watching her receeding form from the corner of his eye.

oOOOo

Run, run, far you run.

'We will not play that song again.'

Fight, fight, fight...

'We refuse to let you win.'

Ah, but I've already won.

Hope, drowning in the darkness, hope is all you have. A hand to guide you, to light the way.

'We will not play that song again.

'Hope is all we have...'

A heart so easily is played. You can be played; new actors, same script.

'Hope is all we have,

'But it is enough.'

oOOOo

Soft footsteps entered the room, and the door clicked as it slid closed. There was a muffled yawn, and a thump, followed by a hushed laugh. Sango opened one eye, craning her head to see who had entered.

"Kagome-chan..."

The schoolgirl grinned, a little mischieviously. "Sorry to wake you Sango-chan..."

Sango caught where Kagome's glance was thrown, and quickly pulled her hand away from Miroku's, a heavy blush tinging her cheeks. The monk slept soundly on, the expression on his face childish and, ironically enough, innocent. Sango avoided looking at him, propping herself up with her better arm.

"How are things?" Kagome asked quietly as she tucked Shippou into her sleeping bag.

"It was poison," the taijiya told her, "From Kohaku."

At the name, Kirara sat up, trotting over to Sango and nuzzling her legs. The cat was rewarded with a rub behind the ears, as she purred softly.

"I was able to get the antidote into him, though, so he should be fine," Sango finished, then reached over her knees to lift Kirara into her lap. The cat adjusted herself, then closed her eyes.

"I see," Kagome finished shuffling through her bag, and brought out a comb. With a giggle, she sat beside Sango.

"Just relax," the schoolgirl said, untying the ribbon that bound Sango's hair. The taijiya winced with the first brush through, but didn't say anything. She continued to rub Kirara, but her eyes always flickered back to Miroku.

"You were holding hands," Kagome said, as if reading her mind. Sango startled, blushing once more.

"It's no big deal, it's not like I'm going to go gossip with Inuyasha about it," Kagome laughed at such a thought, digging the comb through Sango's long waves of obsidian, knotted heavily with blood, sweat, and dirt.

"Is it obvious?" Sango whispered.

"I wouldn't say obvious, but there are clues," Kagome mused.

"Do you think he knows?"

She stopped combing, touching Sango's good shoulder lightly.

"Sango-chan, you like Miroku-sama, right?" The taijiya hesitated, then blushed and nodded, her expression a little distraught.

"Would you say you love him?"

Sango sighed, hugging Kirara lightly. "I don't know. What does love feel like?"

"It's different for everyone, I think," Kagome said, giving up on Sango's hair for the moment, "But I wouldn't really know either."

Kirara mewed in agreement, as Kagome slipped into the sleeping bag beside Shippou, and Sango got out a blanket, coming to rest a little further from Miroku than she'd been before. Kirara curled up under her breasts, and for a minute the room was filled with just breathing.

"Kagome-chan, in your era, what do people do when they're in love?"

"They usually get married, and have children," Kagome answered, leaning over to blow out some of the candles that lit the room.

"There's something that hasn't changed much," the taijiya muttered, closing her eyes, "Good night."

"Good night," Kagome settled, watching the door. Sango quickly fell into sleep, a hand still resting on Kirara's back, but the schoolgirl stayed awake a little longer, until the door opened once more.

"What took you so long?" she murmured, have into her pillow. The hanyou sat, tilting his head back to the cieling after glancing around.

"Nothing."

"Were they-"

"No." His eyes narrowed, "Just go to sleep. Isn't that what you came up here to do?"

She gave another smile, knowing, but not telling, and closed her eyes. Soon, only the hanyou was left awake, his thoughts scattered here and there. He rested his chin on his knees and tried to think of something nice. Like ramen. Or Kagome not yelling at him. Or eating ramen with Kagome, who wasn't yelling at him.

Funny, how in his reverie, she looked less and less like Kikyou...

If there was one thing he knew for sure, it was nothing ever came easy. Forgetting... that was hard. But forgiving is hard too... It does no good, when people forgive you, if you can't forgive yourself.

oOOOo

Sweet, hypnotic tones sprung from the back of his mind, as if his own thoughts. The voice was not forceful, but slithering, like oil, just guiding him in the direction he wanted. He knew that voice...

'Go with this woman.'

He stepped forwards, blankly, like a puppet. Words swam in his head, but none he could reach, drowning in a sea of his own empty-ness, though somehow his feet touched bottom. Or maybe he was being held up by something he could not see.

"Come on, brat," the crimson-lipped woman snapped, "We haven't got all night."

He gave her a sullen look, then sat calmly behind her on the large feather, laying his chain scyth down beside him. It seemed he'd been thinking hard about something, so hard his head had begun to hurt, pounding like it was being walked upon, but the memory was lost, if it had been there in the first place.

He didn't exactly know where they were going, but for some reason, he didn't care to ask. He didn't care much to do anything at that moment. Eyes, it felt like eyes were watching him, watching everything he did. Breath, blink, move, they saw. Did they see his thoughts as well? An eerie thought in itself, he shivered.

The thick black hair of the woman in front of him thrashed mercilessly in the wind, her muscles taut. The wind howled, as they raced through the sky. She said things to herself under her breath, glancing back at him every now and then. It was unnerving, his stare. Like he'd lost something, and couldn't even remember why he was looking.

"I'm not your enemy, kid," she said softly, "I'm just as much a prisoner as you are." Her head shook as she laughed to herself, bitterly. "But it doesn't really matter, does it?"

_Naraku was known as a great manipulator, referred to by many a demon, even years into the future._

_Most likely because he realized there are other ways to control puppets besides strings._

End of Chapter 6


	7. Love is Blind

**Every Time**

Chapter 7: Love is Blind

**Disclaimer**: Blah blah blah no.

**AN**: I love you guys.

With each morning comes renewal, discovery, a light that is brighter than a million candles. Everything stains in pastel, rosey pink, light orange. Breaths of wind are refreshed, and all is still as the Earth comes brilliantly alive.

Sango had been a morning person all her life. She always woke with the sun, even if she'd been up all night training. Opening her eyes against darkness, she squinted, trying to focus. Soon, her vision cleared, and she looked around, noticing no one was up yet, save Kirara, who groomed herself by Sango's numbed feet. Kagome slept by the door, Inuyasha slouched beside her, though neither touched one another. Shippou was in Kagome's arms, snoring quietly. And Miroku lay as he had before, breathing quiet. Sango watched him for a bit, feeling her own cheeks flush as she did. Just being around him sometimes... the happiness he brought her. She elicited a dreary sigh, peering at him through the dark.

When she was near him... sometimes... feelings would come to life inside her. She hadn't felt these things before, not that she could remember clearly anyways. A liquid fire was sloshing around in her heart, warm, heating her from within the middle of her chest and spreading outwards. It strained her, her muscles pushing and pulling. The back of her throat became dry, and she constantly had to wet it over the ten minutes or so she lay there, wondering.

And it came again, a little differently, as she thought about him. She couldn't help but smile, and tilted her head back, as it began to trickle down her spine, erupting low in her abdomen. This scared her, and she adjusted herself, trying to bring herself into sleep. These inklings of pleasure...

_"Would you say you love him?"_

_"I don't know."_

"I don't know." Sango repeated to herself, rolling over. She looked at Miroku's back, turned to her, and felt the warmness inside of her grow. But battling it was her dreariness, pulling down her eyelids. The sun wasn't even up yet...

She could sleep... a little longer...

When she awoke again, Inuyasha was gone, and Kagome was gathering her clothing. She noticed Sango, who was yawning, while reaching for something, and smiled.

"Sango-chan, I'm going for a hotspring bath. Do you want to come?"

Sango nodded through heavy eyelids, and thrust her hand towards Kagome.

"Help me up, please?"

Kagome laughed, and took the taijiya's hand, nearly stepping on Shippou as she pulled. Sango made mental note that Miroku was still using her skirt as a surface on which to lie, and to get it back when the monk was up to better health. Meanwhile, they could enjoy bath-time without the threat of being spied on.

o

Sango winced, as she pulled Kagome's comb through her hair. The schoolgirl had managed to get some of the more minor tangles out the night before, but many still remained. She worked through the inky strands with her fingers, Kirara pacing around her. Inuyasha had returned briefly, to tell them they would head out in the afternoon, and then he left again. Breakfast had been taken care of, and Kagome was shoving her items back into her bag so they could head out.

The only difficult matter was Miroku.

"We can't expect him to be well enough to walk!" Kagome had pleaded Inuyasha angrily, "You said yourself, he was close to death!"

He'd ignored her, though, offering to carry the monk until they stopped again.

"I want to get out of this place," he had told them, "Naraku knows we're here, obviously. It's best to move on."

And Sango couldn't help but agree.

Kagome smushed her sleeping bag into the large tan-coloured bag she carried, taking her frustration out on it as opposed to Inuyasha. Sango's things were easy to pack, as she didn't own much. She had never had much, really. Sometimes, she fantasized about what things could've been, had she been born a princess. The type of person Kuranosuke's wife would be... sans Kuranosuke, of course. But no, that type of life wouldn't suit her. Too helpless, too boring. She sighed, watching Shippou entertain himself with Kirara's tail.

And then there was a muffled sound from beside her. Small, but it got her full attentions right away.

"Miroku!"

She covered her mouth with her hand to cover her surprise and concern, as she knelt over the monk, who had begun to toss and turn, groaning quietly. She reached the other hand out, trying to control its shaking, but she couldn't help herself. It was difficult...

Miroku's forehead was covered in a light layer of sweat, which was only natural, considering his state. He settled on his back, breathing slightly rushed, but he seemed to be coming around. Sango's fingertips lightly grazed his temple, and he calmed, sinking back as he exhaled.

"Sa... n..."

"Mi... Houshi-sama?"

His eyelids opened, just slightly, and he blinked twice, pupils darting anxiously. Sango's hand wandered down his face, brushing his cheek as her heart danced. The warmth returned inside of her, though it hurt, like a burn.

"Houshi-sama!" she exclaimed. Kagome gave up on her sleeping bag, hurrying over, accompanied by both Shippou and Kirara.

Miroku's hand reached into the air, and waved back and forth. He squinted forwards, though his eyes were glazed, and his eyes met nothing, as if looking into somewhere the girls couldn't see.

"Sango...?" he asked warily, "Are you there?"

Sango blinked, confused. Perhaps it was just that he was up to his old tricks. But something about it...

"Of course," she said, matter-of-fact-ly, "I'm right here, Houshi-sama."

"Right here..." he murmured, "Beside me?"

She nodded, lifting her hand from his cheek, a little embarassed. She brought it up to his left hand, still suspended in the air, and caught his wrist.

"I suggest you stop playing this little game, Houshi-sama, we have to leave. I know you're not well, but-"

"Sango?"

"... what?"

A dry laugh trickled out from between Miroku's lips. He blinked again, looking around.

"Sango... I don't see you."

"No," she said firmly to him, holding his wrist tightly, "Stop this, it isn't funny. At all!"

"Sango, I'm not-"

"Stop it!" she yelled, the warmth in her heart dying, and shriveling up into nothing. It was cold and barren there, and she missed the warmth desperately, but said nothing. Slowly, she let go of his wrist, and his hand hung in the air for a few moments, before returning to his side. Kagome glanced from one person to the other, confused.

"Sango-chan?"

"I'll... go get Inuyasha," Sango said, bowing her head so her bangs covered her eyes, "And tell him about what's happened."

She stood, abruptly and stiff, her hands crushed tightly into fists. The footsteps sounded, heavy and empty, and Miroku took these for signs she left, along with other, familiar sounds, the rustling of her yukata, and her breath. Sounds formed a picture in his head, but that picture was nothing, he knew, compared to what actually lay before him. It was there, it was real. He just couldn't see it.

He turned to Kagome, who held Shippou's paw in one hand.

"Kagome-sama?"

"I'm here."

He smiled wistfully 'at' her.

"This isn't a dream... right?"

She shook her head, then realized he probably wouldn't have knowledge of her actions, and responded verbally.

"No, Miroku-sama... I don't think it is."

o

It wasn't happening.

Sango paced back and forth along the outskirts of the town. Her heart throbbed, and tears burst from under her clenched eyelids.

Was nothing sacred? Was the world determiend to take everything from her?

He was alive, yes...

But surely enough, blind.

She grabbed tightly the material of her yukata, just above her left breast, and gritted her teeth.

"Damn you..." she muttered, to no one, and yet everyone.

It was her fault.

It was beautiful. Sometimes, she wanted to see just a glimpse of what Naraku thought. He was brilliant.

He was mad.

The taijiya turned sharply on her heel, ignoring the looks she was being given. Inuyasha said something about waiting for them... where was it? She'd have to wander around until she was able to find him. Or until he caught whiff of her tears.

Crudely, she brought her hand up to her eyes and rid herself of the brackish liquid, though quickly more came to take its place.

It just wasn't fair!

She didn't even have him to cry to...

She had planned on eventually growing closer to the monk. It was only natural, they were traveling comrades, and she did trust him... sometimes... He was close to her, there was no denying it. She hated when he hurt, and hated when he hurt for her.

It was all so beautiful.

"Damn..." she muttered again.

Truth was, she wanted to havehim to cry to.

o

Eventually, Sango came upon Inuyasha, who had taken upon standing on the roof of an old woman's house and watching over the village, like a watch dog. Though Sango didn't have the nerve to say such a thing to him, she almost smiled over the thought.

Almost.

Inuyasha had pursed his lips at her news, and nodded. But done nothing else. His personality demanded he complain about what a hindrance it would become, but the hanyou was not totally stupid. He met Sango's eyes, and didn't feel like having her moping around, nor taking out her depression on him. He knew how Kagome got sometimes, moody and whatnot.

Yeah, it was pretty scary.

He brought the schoolgirl out in the hall, suggesting they stay until Miroku had eaten breakfast, which was actually more of a brunch. She had nodded, not quite in the mood for cheeriness. No one was. That was easy to see. Kagome decided to go sight-seeing with Shippou, which wasn't really sight-seeing for the kitsune, as he had seen many villages, and there wasn't much variety, but Kagome enjyoed it, and he enjoyed spending time with Kagome. Inuyasha disappeared again, accompanied by Kirara, which left Sango, and Miroku. And brunch.

Kagome had left them with some breakfast bars and juice boxes, which was probably a good thing, as juice boxes had straws, and the breakfast bars were easy on stomachs. Miroku wasn't quite up to standing, but had managed to sit up, with Kagome's help, and wasn't showing any signs of extreme pain. But Sango didn't trust his appearance. Miroku was, after all, a very good liar. And she a very bad one.

She shut the door to the room, her eyes meeting his hazy ones. But his gazed right past her, darting over her general area.

"May I ask whom it is?" he said quietly, and she bit her lip to keep from snapping at him.

"It's Sango."

"Oh, good. I couldn't very well fight off an attacker, you know. Well, actually, I'll be used to this soon, so-"

"Used to this?"

"Well, I can still sense things, smell things, hear things. All I'm lacking is visual," he smiled mercilessly, "It's not too bad, you know! After all, I can still hear your lovely voice."

"I wish you'd stop it," the taijiya muttered, trying to get the wrapper off of the straw that came with the juice box. It was 'pineapple', with a picture of a very funny looking fruit on the front. Most of Kagome's fruit foods confused the others greatly, as they'd never seen pineapples before. And they certainly hadn't had the oppurtunity to have them in juice form.

Finally the wrapper came free, and Sango angrily punctured the petit seal at the top of the box with the straw, sighing.

"Juice."

Miroku looked up, trying even harder to keep a smile about his face. Sango mentally cursed Kagome for leaving her with brunch duty.

"My dear Sango, I think it should be delivered by mouth, don't you?"

"It came with a straw," Sango said bitterly.

"Ah. I see."

"Open your mouth, baka," Sango watched as he did so, looking 'at' her for approval. Grimacing, she brought the juice close to his mouth, letting the straw rest on his tongue. He lifted his tongue lightly, making sure of the straw's presence, before closing his mouth and sucking. Sango watched his movements, from as far away as she could be while still holding a juice box under his chin.

"Do you think you could hold it yourself?" she asked, and he stopped drinking, pushing the straw away with his tongue.

"Possibly."

"Huh."

"Are you alright?"

Sango stared at the juice box for a while, not knowing what to say. Of course, she could say 'yes' and that would be that. But somehow, she wasn't up to that. She didn't want to lie. She didn't want to say anything at all. So slowly, she willed her voice to work, as she began to lean forward, her arm begginning to tire of holding the juice.

"No." she choked out, letting her forehead rest on the monk's shoulder. He startled a second, wincing becuase of the pain that sprouted from the point, but ultimately ended up bringing his right hand up, searching the air for Sango. He found her back, her mass of long, sliky hair, and lightly rested his hand on her shoulder blade.

"I'll be fine," he whispered, pulling her a little closer to him. She tried desperately not to cry. But she wanted to. And he knew she wanted to, and was fully willing to give her that chance.

"No. No, you won't," she sobbed, more tears coming. They stained the material of his robe, some falling onto the green skirt that was caught under the monk still. And yet, he said nothing, listening to her stifled cries. And she had every right to cry.

"Surely it's not that bad," he mumbled, trying to see better of the situation.

"You need to stop lying," she responded, beginning to pull away. He let her go, but his hand traveled cautiously up her arm, eventually finding her neck, where it stopped. He felt her pulse, and smiled, though she couldn't understand how it was possible for him to be doing so.

"So do you."

She sniffed, removing his hand from her. "You should have some more food. Energy."

He nodded, and stared into the graphic black that he lived in.

During the next fifteen minutes of brunch, there was no sound. They talked naught of Sango's tears, or his predicament. Simply if she should break the bar into pieces then put the pieces in his mouth, or whether he could manage holding the bar and bringing it to his mouth himself. It turned out he wasn't yet able to master the latter of these feats, which left Sango breaking the bar, and pushing it through the softness of his lips, blushing all the while. And quite a few words could've passed, many of them Miroku wanted to say rather badly. But nothing was said. Which probably wasn't much for the better.

o

So close, and yet so far.

So very far...

Hands that cannot stretch across the distance.

Hands that try.

They try.

We are all trying.

Saving.

Some cannot be saved.

But some are not trying.

o

Blind.

He was blind.

Not blind, not totally, he'd told them. He could see, occasionally, if the lighting was very bright. Most times things were all black, but he could still see things, blurry and darkened shapes. But not nearly as well as he had before, or as well as he would've liked. Nonetheless, he'd ridden on Kirara's back all day, joined by Shippou who was making sure Miroku didn't accidentally get clothes-lined by a low-hanging branch. Sango walked along behind them, with Inuyasha taking lead, and Kagome shortly following him. The path they followed was winding, but clear for the most part. Miroku stayed on Kirara fairly well, though he almost fell off once. Inuyasha nearly screamed at everyone for everything, and Kagome was antsy. Sango was silent.

They were all just dealing with something they didn't know how to deal with. That was it.

It hung heavy in everyone's mind for the entire day. Since Kagome didn't have to return to her era for another few days, they decided to continue in their direction, at a slower pace, and with more precautions. Luckily, they met no enemies during the day, and were able to set up camp without much hassle. Shippou just had to be a little more helpful than usual, and everyone had to pretend they weren't lacking something. You could feel it in the atmosphere. No laughing, so slaps or screams. It was as if he really had died.

Such a peaceful day...

o

Sango glanced over the flames burning in the firepit, watching Miroku, who leaned against a large tree they'd settled near. The sun was setting, and orange rays illuminated the scene, tinging his skin and hair. For once, she could stare at him without worrying about him catching her. She didn't care about anyone else. They all saw, so what was the point?

He could feel a pair of eyes heavily upon him the whole evening. Kagome prepared dinner quietly, ignoring Inuyasha's bickering with Shippou. The two had found something trivial to distract them, and frankly, everyone was glad. It sounded normal.

So he figured it was Sango watching him, who was most likely with Kirara, and was confused by it. He'd felt something of the sort previous nights, but had never managed to catch her eye. He 'looked' around, trying to imagine the scene.

Of all of them, he seemed to be the least bothered by his condition.

Seemed.

Always seemed.

"Hey, Sango!" he called, hoping she would get his hint and come over. He smiled goofily, looking around, and finally heard footsteps approach, the scampers of Kirara, and the light tempo of Sango's sandals against the earth.

"Yes?" she asked softly, shyly, and he patted the ground next to him.

"Sit down?"

As she didn't answer him, he cleared his throat, and lifted his hands in the air.

"No groping. I promise!"

She settled next to him, however reluctantly, without so much as a sliver of amusement. "How are you feeling?"

"I'm in an adequate amount of pain."

This whole thing seemed almost humourous.

"What are you going to do?" Sango whispered, "Now that..."

"It'll be fine," he said again, frowning. He felt Kirara brush against his leg, and Kagome called Sango over to help with dinner.

And he forgot all about telling her that she was right.

End of Chapter 7


	8. Stay Near

**Every Time**

Chapter 8: Stay Near

**Disclaimer**: Same as last time, folks. 

He had dreamt it was snowing. Beautiful flakes of pure white came down from the deep grey skies, covering the entire land. What was not covered by the intense ivory blanket was dead, or dying. He saw no animals, no birds, no sign of humans at all. The atmosphere became eeriely still, and not even a wind swept through, encompassing the world in a deathly silence. So beautiful; the sight, the sound, so albascent, untainted and blinding. The snow under his feet crackled as he turned, suddenly aware of just how numb his fingers, toes and face were, the air so thin it was difficult to breathe.

His eyes captured her standing there, as if a figment of his own imaginations. A cloak was wrapped about her, and a thin layer of snow rested on her shoulders and the top of her head, clinging to the long strands. He stared at her, while she looked emptily towards him.

All she did was smile, so sad and pained. Her arms were crossed over her front, each hand clutching the oppiosite ahoulder, and she was shaking, though it was just barely noticeable. He took a step towards her, the snow creaking underneath his weight, like ice ready to crack. Imprints were left, tainting the holy looking ground.

It lasted but a minute. He made his way towards her, but she still didn't move, as if paralyzed by the snapping cold, or the overwhelming sadness evident in her eyes. He remembered blood, sharp colour upon the canvas of snowflakes, though whose and how it came to be there, he couldn't recollect. But the sight of it caused his heart to shake. And abrutply it ended and he awoke, blinking and stretching, looking around and trying to…

'Oh, right…' he lay back down, relaxing, heartbeat slowing, but sinking deeper into the cavity that was his chest.

Her voice reached his ears, bittersweet. "Houshi-sama? Are you awake?"

Miroku let the smell of whatever was being cooked for breakfast seep into him. Pain raked though his entire body, reminders that his injuries had not yet healed sompletely. Her face returned to him, so pale, lips chapped and bloody, moving as if struggling to tell him something.

He would not lie; it was often he dreamed of her.

"Yes_…_" he responded, "Sango."

o

While the taijiya prepared a breakfast of eggs (cracked open on a slab of rock balanced over the fire pit) Kagome rebandaged and applied ointment to Miroky's wounds, making cheerful conversation as she did so. Shippou was still asleep, and Inuyasha was sparring lightly with Kirara in a clearing nearby for morning excresize. A normal morning….Even Sango's new job of feeding Miroku wasn't too irregular, as she'd served him lunch and dinner the day previous. On a few of these occasions he'd groped her, but once he'd missed, getting her leg by mistake.

It didn't feel right to her, slapping him when he was still injured, and perhaps just trying to prove to her things were alright. But for the sake of her sanity, she did anyways.

_Ah, sanity. How she missed it._

After scarfing down her own meal, Sango made her way over to the monk, cautious out of habit. Same as before, he looked up to the sound of her footsteps with an eager grin, and she sighed heavily. This time, however, she skipped asking him how he was. She knew the answer, same as always, and had no reason to hear the lie another time.

"Breakfast," she said wearily.

He nodded. "I suppose I'll have your gentle hands to feed me once again?"

"Yeah. You will." Sango knelt beside him, picking up a piece of egg (sunny-side up, his favourite, of course) and tapped his shoulder lightly. He opened his mouth, chewed, swallowed and had a sip of water, and then the cycle would repeat, lasting about five quiet minutes. His hands stayed motionless, her eyes keeping a careful watch of them. So close to him…she found herself nearly blushing, and could almost feel disappointment when he finished, and she pulled away.

"Oh, Sango!" he called after her, pleased when her footsteps halted. "Thank you," he continued, "And, um, could I have a talk with you later? Perhaps after lunch?"

He heard the throw-away dishes Kagome had brought make scuffling noises in her shifting hands as she exhaled, the air smooth over her lips.

"Alright. And your welcome. I mean, it's the least I can do…"

It seemed nearly awkward, though surely it couldn't have been. After all, it wasn't as if they were in _love_ or anything.

_…ever notice how people love to lie to themselves?_

o

"It's beautiful!" Kagome exclaimed, spinning around while throwing her hands up into the air. The rest of the group had to agree, it most certaintly was. The valley was a healthy shade of green, and the lake shimmered where bright rays of sunlight hit the surface. Yes, it did seem like a very wonderful day, just like yesterday.

Miroku winced, and Kagome quickly apologoized, everyone avoiding eye contact.

"It's nothing," the monk insisted. Guilt still nagging at her, Kagome felt it was best not to press the issue, instead turning to the hanyou to her right.

"Please can we stop for lunch here? Please please please please-"

"Alright! Just shut up!"

"Oh, thank you!" Kagome's face lit up, and began skipping off, singing her own randition of _The Hills Are Alive_, which wasn't exactly pleasant on the ears. Shippou scampered off after her, while Inuyasha simply 'keh'ed and helped Miroku off Kirara.

"Your girlfriend sure is energetic," the monk commented, to which Inuyasha dropped him and stalked off, muttering angrily. Kirara made a noise that sounded like the cat equivalent of laughter, and Miroku couldn't help but join in. True, he couldn't exactly veiw the scene, but he still knew it was lovely, and not just from Kagome's outburst (she'd currently moved on to _Oh, What a Beautiful Morning_, ignoring Inuyasha's point of it being afternoon). The smell of the air, the wind against his skin, electrifying. It was almost frightening, how much more alive things seemed, now that he couldn't take it's sight for granted.

Meanwhile, Kirara returned to her smaller form, and nuzzled Sango's ankle wearily. Her mistress scratched her behind the ear, telling her softly, "You can go have a nap now. I know you're tired." The cat wandered off, seeking the cool shadow of a tree to sit beneath.

The monk's laughter was cut off by the misery of his wounds, and he waited a few moments for it to die down, before sticking his hand up int the air, trusting Sango hadn't just _left_ him there.

"Help me out?" he asked, and heard her sigh, close to exasperated. Then her hand, her warmth was in his, as she pulled him upright. He had just a little trouble getting his footing, stumbling slightly towards her.

"Are you okay to walk?" she mumbled, and he nodded.

"Walking should be fine, as long as it's not too strenuous."

Her voice softened even more as nervously, she spoke again. "Would this be a good time…for us to have that talk?"

"I suppose," Miroku said. There was a long pause, during which Sango felt herself begin to sweat.

"Houshi-sama, why are you still holding my hand?"

"I can't very well walk on my own, now can I?" he 'looked' around, "I'll probably end up killing myself."

"Oh."

On edge, Sango, led him along the path beaten into the ground, used for transportation between villages. They'd come across one earlier, but had found nothing of interest. There had been a large number of attractive young women there, but Sango had said nothing of it. A thought struck her, causing her to slow her pace.

Miroku wouldn't very well be able to find someone to bear his children anymore, now would he?

And the taijiya wasn't exactly sure how she felt about that…

"Sango?"

"Y-yes?" She slowed further, fingers still wrapped lightly around the monk's hand, no doubt the cause of the blush on her cheeks.

"There's a lake around here, isn't there?"

She turned sharply, wrenching her hand from his grasp.

"Houshi-sama?" she asked, in a tone practically dripping with accusation, "Have you been lying to us?"

_To me…?_

"Just testing my senses," he told her, "I can smell the water on the air."

"I don't believe you."

"I _am_ a monk, Sango," he stretched his arms out in front of him as he spoke, as if attempting to catch her. "I've been toning my abilites since I was a child. I know you did the same thing, which is how you've gotten so strong!"

"Yes…" Sango made an expression that lay between a scowl and a pout, still disatisfied. Such a con the monk was. If she found out the he really was faking his blindness, just as a joke, or to get closer to her, she_…_

_To get closer to her?_

It could've been a ploy of sorts to seduce her (or something) but that didn't seem at all to be his intent. Maybe he was just playing his part very well, the master behind an elaborate scheme. Was she nothing but a butterfly, so easily caught in his web? The thoughts dispersed themselves with the shaking of her head -she knew she was getting carried away. A little while longer she watched him, as he continued to reach out into empty air in search of her, till finally he stopped, seemingly upset.

"I don't know what game you've decided to play here," he said in mock annoyment, "But I'd appreciate if you'd tell me, so I'm not left in the dark here."

Just to make sure, Sango stepped towards him, eyeing him suspiciously. He looked in the direction of the sound, yet his gaze still looked far-off, glazed over and dull; as if swallowed by smoke. Then, quick and noiselessly, she pulled back her arm, and swung it towards him, the wing coming to a halt just millimetres from his face. And he did not flinch, nor blink, showing that, for once, his words had been genuine truth.

However, the smile on Miroku's face only windened marginally, as he raised his own hand to where hers hovered, clumsily catching hold of it. Her presence was strong next to him, her scent an undertone to the melange of odours that flavoured the air.

"Ah," he said, "There you are."

Together their arms lowered, neither pulling away.

"Could you take me to the lake?" the monk asked, "We can talk there, if that's alright with you."

"O-of course." Promptly, she shut her lips, and concentrated on leading him safely to the lakeshore. It would only be for a short time, she assured herself, as Kagome would soon be done preparing lunch, and Inuyasha would drag them over so they could get going as soon as possible. It was funny, how sometimes she'd wanted someone, often him in particular, tp talk to, and now that she had the chance, she could barely look at him. Strangely enough, at the same ime she felt she could do nothing wrong. He let her feel like Sango, just Sango; nothing more, nothing less, in a frame of time preserved.

She settled, lying on the embankment, and look over to him where he sat beside her.

"What was it you wanted to speak to me of?" she blurted out, unsure of any other way to ask.

"Whatever you want," he replied, causing her confusion.

"But wha-"

"Just talk, Sango. And I'll listen."

o

A pale finger traced the outline of the mirror, expression doubtful and unpleased. A boy knelt beside the pale girl and her mirror, as their master pondered these new developements.

"Kohaku."

"Hai, Naraku-sama?"

The master signalled for the images in the mirror to fade, and the girl holding it complied, leaving the two alone in the unlit room.

"You did not kill her, Kahku, nor him."

The boy winced, expecting punishment - but it did not come. Instead, his master's hand was placed upon his head, not in an unfriendly manner.

"No, this is much better," the master whispered, "Did you see them, Kohaku?"

"Hai, Naraku-sama."

"Did you see the pain they were in, Kohaku?"

"Hai, Naraku-sama."

His master smirked. "Good job, Kohaku."

He ruffled Kohaku's hair, cold fingers like a giant spider clinging to his scalp, and Kohaku resisted the urge to both shudder and weep. There was a flicker of a girl touching his hair, her laughter echoing inside of his head, till it faded into silence, and he became unsure it was ever there in the first place.

o

"Was it selfish of me, Houshi-sama?"

Sango had spent a while thinking, lying on her stomach with her head resting on her crossed arms, while Miroku waited patiently beside her.

"What do you mean?" he asked faintly, and she rolled over onto her back.

"When I was going to kill Kohaku…and then myself," she answered, "Was that selfish?"

"Of course not."

"But I was just taking all you guys had given me, and throwing it away! Without even a scond thought! Without even telling you!" She balled her hands into fists, nails biting at the dirt as they swept by.

"You love your brother, right Sango?"

"Yes."

"And you wanted to help him…to end thing, in the way they should've ended. I don't think that is selflish."The look on his face was thoughtful. yet sorrowful, "I doubt I would have survived…let alone be able to see straight, like you."

"Houshi-sama, stop. It's not true."

He shook his head, not in the mood to argue with her. "Tell me something else, please."

"I'm sorry."

"Not that," he said sharply, "Tell me something else."

She stared at the wispy clouds in the air, so very high above them, unable to think of anything, anything at all. Miroku remained mute, waiting, so close and yet the distance between them had never seemed so far.

"I'm glad it's almost summer," Sango's voice came, shaking as if on the verge of tears, "Kohaku loved summer. In the winter, he always got sick…. He was always so fragile. Father was concerned that maybe he wouldn't make a good taijiya, but Kohaku just tried harder to prove that wrong…." She stopped a moment, to recompose herself. "Should I talk about something else?"

Miroku shook his head. "No, do whatever you want…. It was stupid of me to ask such things of you. I didn't really want to hear the truth….I 'm like that, I dodge it. You were right, Sango, I'm lying to myself. It's become a habit over the years. I started to distract myself, from what would eventually become of me, but it just got worse and worse…. And now it's hard not to."

He reached up to his neck, fingering a light scrape. "It is nice to keep hope, but I should realize, really, what chance do we have? Maybe…maybe I should just enjoy what's left while I still have the chance." he half-smiled, "Not that that much of that chance still exists."

Sango sat up, leaning over hesitantly to him. Her hand reachd out, lightly making contact to his, to make sure he knew he wasn't just talking to nothing.

"Don't say that," she said feircely, almosy surprising herself, "Look how far we've come! I promised myself, I will save Kohaku! I don;t intend to break my promise, Houshi-sama!"

The words bubbled up inside of him, pushing against him, painfully, trying to get out. But the monk of a silver tongue was able to surpress them, though he had become paralyzed. He could embrace her…he could pull away…. He didn't, though, he simply stayed in his place, trying to draw a definite line.

'You make this so difficult, Sango…' he thought fondly, 'The more you show me of yourself…the more there is to love…'

And for her sake, he found his voice.

"Of course, Sango. You are right, as always. I apologize for what was said…"

Her heart wept at his vacant words. He barely sounded like himself, or at least the version of himself she thought she had come to know. But everything she knew had started to fall to pieces around her…. Miroku wanted so badly just to rebuild her world, to put her shattered heart back together. He wondered what she would do if he were to run his hands though her hair, and have her lips kiss him again. But he couldn't risk breaking her further.

'You fight for your brother, Sango…And I'll be the one to fight for you.'

o

_Sadness rapes the heart._

_Upon a black frame of glass,_

_Careful, so careful not to shatter it._

_All we have to hold onto_

_Is slipping away…_

o

"Please, don't let go," the monk whispered, feeling Sango's contact lessen, "I like knowing that you are here."

"But isn't this the part where you ruin it , and grope me?" he voice sounded jokingly.

"Not this time," he cocked an eyebrow, "But if you're so eager…"

"Don't you dare," she warned, and they shared a small laugh. Even after it died into the wind, the amtophere seemed thinner, and they were able to move more freely.

"You know…" she mumbled, "I was really scared."

"When?" he turned his hand, so he could hold hers properly, causing a blush to rise on her sculpted cheeks.

"When you…weren't…well." She couldn't bring herself to say 'When you were dying', the bluntness of it was too much.

He didn't know what to say to this. He knew what he wanted to say, but actually saying it was another matter entirely.

"W-we should be getting back," the taijiya stuttered.

"Indeed we should," Miroku stood carefully, then looked down to where he gussed Sango to be from where their flesh met. "Sango?"

She stared at their hands, locked together and her face fell. It was but nothing, she was playing guide-dog. That was all. It wasn't like…like that.

_No, of course not._

"Are you stalling?" the monk asked humourously, "But Sango, you get to feed me lunch. Think of the romance! How can you _not_ look forward to that?"

She pushed herself to her feet, staggering a lottle, but careful not to put to much strain on the monk. He was, after all, still injured, like it or not.

'Romance…' she pondered the word.

'Surely there is no chance of that…'

o

After a lunch that went according to their standards of normality the group set off agan. Briefly, Sango looked to Miroku, but instead called over Kirara for him to ride on. Better not to have him walk to much, due to his wounds.

_Ah yes, those beautiful excuses._

They began on the quickest path back to Kaede's village, so Kagome could go back home, much to Inuyasha's annoyment. But it was best for all of them. Miroku could rest, and regain strength, as could everyon else. Besides, Kagome couldn't sense any shikon no kakera, and Naraku's presence couldn't be detected either, as if he were waiting a while until he next chose to rear his ugly head. Perhaps ugly wasn't the word, no, creepy would be more like it. It _is_ kind of hard to take your arch-nemesis seriously when he's wearing what looks like drag-queen make-up.

The group had been attacked twice after they set out that day, but the battles weren't difficult, not compared to what they'd been through previously. The first was a pitiful youkai, quickly taken care of by Inuyasha. The second was a group of fairly large reptilian demons, slain by Sango and Inuyasha, with a little help from Kagome's arrows. Miroku had managed to haul himself off of Kirara so she could go fight. Shippou joined the monk, using foxfire to make sure nothing got through to him. Miroku could sense them, smell them, hear their crashes and hissing noises, but he couldn't tell their percise positions, and his best weapon was thus rendered useless. If he were to use the kazaana, one of his comrades could easily be sucked in, along with, or even in place of an enemy. And if that were to happen, he would never be able to forgive himself.

They still had a day or so of walking before they reached the well, even with their quick pace, so they decided to set up camp where they were as night began, in a cave on a rocky plain. Sango dumped the job of giving Miroku dinner onto Inuyasha and left, without even bothering to think up a reasonable excuse. But the hanyou let her go without much dispute, knowing she needed some space to breathe, to cool off.

None of the, could become too close; it opened oppurtunty for weakness. But if they were too far apart, they would not have much hope for survival at all.

_And so they struggled to draw the line._

o

_Run!_ her mind told her, and so she did, her thoughts weighing heavily, so heavily upon her. At first, she had just been walking calmly,. just trying to work out the things in her head. But there were so many, trapped inside of her, that she could barely hold herself up.

_Run! Just run!_

She let her legs carry her around the entire rock valley, and then they were satisfied, her muscles sore and her stomach sick. The world had became shaded in blue, none of the sun's light still clinging to the horizon like spilled paint. She wasn't surprised when she found no one awak when she returned, besides Inuyasha, of course, whom she had doubted would be alseep anyways. It was the night when the moon disappeared completely from the skies, turning him human, just like she was.

"Got everything sorted out?" he asked gruffly, as she wandered over to where someone had set up her blanket and pillow, away from the fire, how she always slept.

"I guess," she responded, yawning loudly. The fire popped, growing dimmer, and inuyasha took this as a signal to throw on another piece of wood, as spring nights were rather chilly, no matter how pleasant the day seemed.

"Hey…"

She looked over to the hanyou, whose eyes were alit with fireglow, grey flecked with gold.

"Don't…" he narrowed his gaze, "Don't let the two of you end up like me and Kikyou."

"But it's not like-"

"I don't care what the Hell it's like and not like," he cast his glare upon her, "Just don't. That's all I'm sayin'."

She nodded solemnly, as she pulld the blanket up to her shoulders. "Goodnight, Inuyasha."

"Keh." he tossed another piece of kindling onto the place.

"Fools."

o

It was the strangest thing, really.

When he wanted to, he could extract pictures from memory, vivid and overflowing. His dreams were fluid and haunting, as usual, but was all just in his head. The material world, what was real, had been cut off. He tried to picture what was happening, but he knew he was wrong, though he'd never be able to confirm it. Life was so intricate, minute details creating and maintaning that which is life.

And a head full of memories was all he had.

He didn't have his family's revenge.

He didn't have an heir.

And he didn't have Sango, as the days continued to wear him thin.

How much longer could he keep it up?

How long before something slipped?

Roused from sleep, the smell of morning - breakfast and fresh air - he pulled back the sheet, feeling hints of sunlight hit his face.

"Get up, bouzu!" the hanyou's voice came, "You don't get sleep-in priveledges!"

Placing one hand firmly onto a large rock for support, Miroku carefully stood, wincing a little. His head pounded, and he swayed, trying to gain proper control of his body, nearly screaming when the coldness of a hand came upon his shoulder.

"We've still got a day to go, Houshi-sama," the disembodied voice came, "Are you up to it?"

"But of course, my Sango!" he ran one hand through his limp bangs, noting that he hadn't had a bath in a few days, "Lead the way!"

Sango couldn't help but smile at his jubilant mood. Her heart warmed but a little, yet this small bit was enough.

He silently made a vow to himself, to try not to lie that day. It was too beautiful, she was too beautiful, to taint with the curse of lonliness that followed him like a lost dog.

o

Two and a a bit of a day later, Kagome had gone home, and Inuyasha was sulking by the well, while Shippou tried to cheer him up, and convince him to go after their miko. Kirara purred, dancing around Sango's ankles as she decided to seize her chance. Peeking in the doorway of Keade's hut, she held her breath, chasing away he butterflies that had flown into her abdomen and throat.

"Houshi-sama?"

He looked up, nodding in greeting. He'd been stationed there since yesterday, having had his wounds properly mended, and helping out Kaede with some herb drying andmixing, since there'd not been much else for him to do. Sango ventured further inside, having finished her morning training and had a refreshing swim.

"Kaede-sama has declared you well on the way to recovery."

"I feel fine, actually," the monk told her, "I've just been trying to get better at not relying on sight. Practising with some of Kaede's things."

"Oh, did I disturb you?"

"Not at all. I was getting bored anyways."

"Good," she knelt down beside him, ignoring the excitement brimming inside of her. "Let's go then."

"Go? Where to?"

She studied his puzzled expression, amused.

"We, Houshi-sama, are going to go to something with our lives while we have the chance."

End of Chapter 8


	9. Slipping and Falling

_**Every Time**_

Chapter 9: Slipping and Falling

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inuyasha. 

Sunlight warmed his skin, dancing over his cheeks and across his nose. He stared into it, feeling only a small portion of the pain that before would've been given to him. He could smell water on the air, as it had rained the previous day and ground squished just a little when they walked. Twice he nearly stepped in a puddle, but she stopped him, pulling him around it. She was light on her feet, sometimes letting go so she could dance and twirl, carefree in the wind. The sound of her clothing rustling against her skin, and her hair whipping violently in the wind was vivid and beautiful.

_And he was so sure it was there._

Sango had called Kirara to help him up into one of the tallest trees around, and he sat upon on of the thick branches, carefully balanced. One hand gripped another thinner branch, and he was able to lean back and feel the wind push it's hands through his hair, and gravity caused him to be dizzy as the blood all rushed to his head.

Her laughter echoed in and around the branches, as the hushed gale opened the canopy a little, and he felt rays of sun on his feet for a minute before it settled. They made quiet conversation, while she climbed about like a squirrel, fearless.

_More like an angel._

Like she could fly.

She hung from her knees, head level with his except for the fact that she was upside down.

"Don't fall," he told her.

Softly she replied, "I won't."

He gave her no immiediate answer, just leaned forwards a little, and heard her draw in breath. "So you can worry about me, but I can't worry about you?"

"It's different," she insisted, letting one arm drop down to trace circles in mid-air.

"Not so much."

"I thought we weren't going to worry today," she said blatantly, and he reached over to where he knew he put their lunch.

"You're right. Let's eat."

She climbed around and dropped onto the branch beside him like a shadow. She opened the cloth she'd wrapped the food in, carefully laying it on her lap. Not too elaborate food, but she had put some tea in a 'thermos' that Kagome had left.

"Where's Kirara?" he asked.

"Sleeping up high," she told him, and he felt her lay a cloth over his knee, then put some food onto it. "Lunch."

"Thank you."

_Even just to breathe…_

It felt like they were tiptoeing around something, trying to avoid it's ominous presence, eating away at their stomachs. That something grew bigger and bigger, making it hard for Sango to swallow, threatening to force her to vomit it up if she were to speak. Not even the sunshine could alight it and cause it to fade from view, even for that day.

_Don't let go, not now._

_Don't let me go._

He had pretty much gotten the hang of eating, so she only needed to help him a little. A smile crossed her face when he had finished, and sipped his tea without knowledge of the sauce that still remained on the corner of his mouth.

"Here," she said, reaching over with a cloth napkin. With one quick dab she removed the sauce, then darted back away. He nodded, and began folding the cloth back up. There was another silence, and she began fidgeting, playing with the bark under her fingers.

"I'm sorry," she murmured, "Was this not a good idea?"

"It was a wonderful idea, Sango," he sighed, "I was just thinking, that's all."

She stood, plucking the fabric from his hands. "I'll put these on the ground so we don't have to wory about them. Or not, if you want to go somewhere else."

"No, I like it here."

Funny how she was only wrong after she doubted herself.

She stood, feeling the roughness of the thick branch under her bare feet, as she had taken off her sandals to climb better. That was how she climbed trees when she was a child. She came home dirty, and sometimes scratched up, but she never fell.

"S-Sango?"

His head was tilted away, so she could barely see his face. The whirled around it, that which neither could speak of, so fast they could barely see eachother on the other side.

And he let himself slip a little.

"Remember, before, when you kissed me?"

"I… yes." She put the blanket filled with lunch on a higher branch, then wrapped her arms around herself, still not sitting down. Knowing him, she couldn't help but be a little suspicious. Always suspicious, always cautioned, she always doubted him.

"I was worried about you," she said, answering his silent questions, "And relieved that you didn't die."

"Nn."

"And…"

_Let me slip now…_

"Houshi-sama, why…?"

_Just a little now…_

"It hurt…" she whispered as she crouched down next to him, feeling herself grow nervous, confused, and ever so scared. Head becoming light and dizziness pulling at her, she could've sworn she was about to topple off the branch and down to the ground.

"It means a lot," he told her, "That you care."

"How could I not?"

Adjusting herself so her legs dangled over the branch, Sango felt more naked than she ever had in her entire herself. And there was no more time for doubting.

"I thought we weren't going to do this today," she commented.

"We don't have to… not if you don't want to…"

They had put the pieces together. Many times they had said it, but with different words, masking their true intentions. Not exactly kisses were what they gave, and what they sang was not quite a love song. Going back to the niave dance, yet again. Yet again.

She stood, gasping in breath to stifle a cry. Upon his shoulder she rested her hand, squeezing softer than she meant to, so it felt almost like the touch of a ghost. Clutching the finished lunch she'd retreived from a higher branch, she moved to the next branch without trouble, but hesitation was obvious.

"I'll come back up and get you," she said, and he doubted he would hear her laugh for a while. Still, he felt her lean back in again, using her free hand to rest her weight against the thick trunk of the tree.

"You're going to give me a heart attack," the monk told her with a light-hearted smile.

"Maybe I will."

Quickly she swooped forwards, closing her eyes tight. He felt her bangs tickle the bridge of his nose, and her lips touched his lightly. Sorrowfully. He could smell the salt in her eyes, the same as in his.

_We're going to make something of today._

It was like falling. Everything rushed past him so fast, as her taste imprinted itself on his mouth, and she pulled away, touching her forehead to his. Both didn't speak for a while, listening to eachother breathe in the wind.

Finally her presence left him, and he reached out one hand for her, but she wasn't where she had been. He felt her fingertips touch, and she whispered, "I'll come back for you."

_Just a little_…

They began to fall.

o

Within the shadows, silver threads glinted. Strung out so tightly they were hard to see. So thin, so sharp, they'd cut your head clean off if you were to take one wrong step.

Splashing in puddles of blood, shiny and rust red as they dried on the walls. He wrote their names, one by one, and crossed them off as they were captured. Just pieces in his game.

Changing, morphing, remolding itself.

He looked at the next names down on his list. Everything was in place. Everything was _perfect_.

Of course. He was the perfect incarnate of evil.

Evil; such a word could not describe what he had in store

Goodness knows they'd want to call him other things than evil. Though all the words ultimately amounted to the same thing.

And that was their _downfall_.

He laughed, and tightened the knot, knicking his finger just lightly. The blood swelled, and he wiped it on his sleeve, a long, violently red smear.

To be in love is to be a blind fool.

And fools rush in where angels fear to tread.

So the spider pushes the angels in from behind.

_Come into my parlour…_

o

"Don't ask why," Sango told him firmly, as she took her hand in his. Miroku didn't speak, just walked quietly alongside her. For there wasn't a _why_ she could give him. She had no explanation. And she didn't want to tell him any more, for fear he would shatter it altogether. Or that she would get him killed, for her sake. That was unfair, and she did not want to be the one to prevent him from his family's revenge.

He barely noticed when she tightened her grip, so tightly that her fingernails left red marks in his skin.

"What do you want to do now?" the taijiya asked, halting. Kirara was chasing butterflies short distance away, though slightly distracted. The air was quiet, as if someone had turned off the sound. Sango could hear too much though, everything screaming at her inside her head. Miroku had barely heard her question, trying to pinpoint what it was…

"Houshi-sama?" Sango turned to look at him, growing worried with his pensive expression.

The kiss, the kiss…

She just couldn't place it. He'd kissed her back, or at least she thought he had. Maybe it was just her. The memory replayed, causing her mind to wander, and her heart to dance around, part thrashing, part waltz.

"Miroku?"

She took a step towards him, but he was already moving towards her, a sense of urgency about him.

"Sango, move!"

So blind, she couldn't even feel around her the malice growing, the stench of death coiling around them. Her heart scolded itself as she stumbled to the ground, damning her lack of weapons, besides those hidden on her person. Caught helpless and off-guard, she turned her head upwards as she heard a scream.

Where she had been, Miroku stood. And just left of where his heart lay, beating alive in his chest, a thin wooden tentacle ran through his flesh. It slowly drew out, and he gasped in breath, just barely able to stand. Her lips suddenly tasted bitter, and were paralyzed along with the rest of her. Blood dripped from the tentacle as it pulled itself out and released him. Sango scrambled to her knees, catching his heavy body as it fell. Each hand braced a shoulder, and she put her forehead against his collarbones, trying to keep him upright. He coughed, and blood landed in her hair.

A laugh sounded off to the side, and she glanced over her shoulder, finding just what she had expected. Two empty black eyes stared at her, adorned in white babboon fur. The tentacle disapeared beneath the robe, and it moved forwards. Sango didn't doubt it was smiling.

"Sa…"

She turned back to Miroku, wrapping her arms tightly around him and feeling his blood stain the front of her yukata, warm and sticky where it reached her skin. Down, she pulled him down and closer to her, so that his head rested against her chest. Her hand rain over his hair, and she nearly choked on the pungent smell of his blood.

"Guess your practice paid off," she said almost ironically.

"I-"

"Miroku, stop." Sango heard their attacker say something witty behind her, but she ignored it, enjoying what she had left of him. "I'm sorry. I'm so goddamn sorry!"

There was a growl, as Kirara faced their enemy, protecting them for the moment. She lept forward, biting and clawing at him, but he knocked her away with a tentacle. Sango stifled a yell as she saw the feline's body hit the ground hard, and she reduced herself to her smaller form, whimpering.

"Kirara…"

Sango trembled, feeling Miroku's inhalation become ragged, forced. The blow hadn't actually hit his heart, but with a wound like that, it was nearly impossible for a mortal to survive. And with Naraku on the offensive…

"Don't die on me," she begged softly, "I won't let you die! Not now!"

"Get to your feet, Sango," came Naraku's rhythmic and satiny voice. She looked angrily to him, and he was pleased to see, for the second time in the year or so he had known her, pure rage and sadness overtaking her.

Her lips touched the monk's forehead, then his mouth once more, memorizing the feeling, the taste. His unseeing eyes looked frantically (blindly) to where he thought she was, as she lay him on the ground, her hands wet with red liquid.

"I'm sorry…" was all she could manage, with "I wanted more time…"

Sango picked up his right hand in hers, tracing a circle in the middle of the silk.

"We thought this would be the death of you… But it ended up being my fault. My fault I loved you. I'm sorry for that. I'm sorry for a lot of things, but it's not doing me any good." she then stood, pivoting to face what was or seemed to be Naraku.

"All I can promise, is that I will not give up on you…"

Triggering the blade hidden on her left forearm, the taijiya rushed forwards. She swung her arm out, trying to slice across his chest. He laughed, gliding backwards, but she only came on stronger, lifting her leg to bring an axe kick down on the top of his head. Her target was off, and she managed to maim his shoulder, but he caught her off-balance, and a tentacle wrapped around her right arm. Desperate, she lashed out with her other leg, trying to get his side. There was solid contact, but he didn't seem to be phased.

She delivered a punch to his face, screaming so hard her throat felt like it was on fire. He lost ground, but another tentacle came out to wrap around her thigh.

"You couldn't even show up in person!" Sango yelled, "You had to send a fucking _kugutsu_!"

With all her strength, she pushed her arm forewards, the blade easily slitting the babboon pelt, digging into the puppet. But the tentacle around her leg bit in tighter, threatening to snap the bone. She kept slashing at him, relentlessly. Twice she cut herself, but took no notice. She felt the tentacle bite at her skin, knew she was bleeding and her ankles felt sprained.

But she had made a promise.

It was all she had.

And twice now, _twice_, Miroku had shed blood directly for her sake, this not counting the many times beforehand he had saved her life. But his own life was becoming the cost, bleeding furiously out of him. The bloodline was dying, if not already dead. And all she could see was her fault, _everything_ was her fault.

Her blade finally sliced off the head of the kugutsu, and she took a moment to rest; a fatal mistake. For she soon felt around her neck something cool and alive. It tilted her head up, and the headless body stared at her, laughing in pleasure.

Sango tried twisting her head around to see Miroku's state, but she only caught a glimpse of dark red and his form, just barely on his knees, before she was jerked forwards.

Not wanting to die, she tried struggling. There were still so many things unfinished. Kohaku was still trapped in Naraku's web. They all were. And his venom was eating away at her, so much that she was barely there.

She felt something press into her neck, and a few seconds later, all went black.

_And everytime I try to fly, I fall…_

End Chapter 9


	10. Taint

**Every Time**

Chapter 10: Taint

**AN:** 10 chapter celebration! Yay! Thank you to everyone who has reviewed.

**Disclaimer:** No Inu for me.

The first thing she felt was hatred.

It was small at first, imbedded deep within her chest. But slowly more realization came, sadness, lonliness, wanting. She did not want to feel these things, but didn't want to move. _Perhaps it was all a dream,_ she told herself, but it was truly doubtful.

Miroku… Where was Miroku?

Numb, and trying not to drown inside her own thoughts, Sango suddenly felt the vivid touch of sharp metal to one's neck. Her eyes shot open, training telling her not to move an inch. Just inches from her face was a pair of sepia eyes, eyes she missed and had wanted to see for so long. Chestnut freckles were splashed acropss his noce and cheeks, and though he looked determined, even fearsome, she knew that he was afraid. He was, after all, her brother. Even if he couldn't remember it.

"Wh-who are you?" he whispered fiercely, and her heart died just a little. He relieved some pressure from where his weapon lay against the silky skin of her throat.

"K-Kohaku…" she reached up one hand, a nastalgic smile crossing her face. He jerked away, looking concerned.

"Who are you!" he demanded, planting one hand firmly on her shoulder, pushing her weak body down against the hard wooden surface she rested on. How she got there, or where she was even, was near obvious. Naraku's castle. She was almost choking on the atmosphere. Biting her lip, she complied with her brother's wishes, feeling tears spring to her eyes.

"My name is Sango," she said quietly, hearing it bounce of the walls of the cold, empty room, filled with nothing except her bench, and a dusty tapestry over the window. It was patterned purple and mase, a spider in the middle, large and black with spindly black legs. Looking closely, she would b able to see that a web was carefully stitched over the entire thing. Nothing could escape.

"I'm a youkai taijiya," she continued, hoping he would be satisfied. But no.

"Do I know you?" he demanded in his voice, trembling yuet strong. Sango took a moment to let herself be proud. Her little brother had grown up; changed. She hadn't wanted him to, but it was inevidable. Everything changes, sooner or later. Nothing can remain in the same state forever.

"… yes," she admitted, staring at the cieling. It hurt to look at him. She wanted to hold him then, but she had become the weak one. Where his fingers met the skin unveiled by the neckline of her yukata, there was cold, and she begged he remember something.

"Who are you?" he yelled again, "Who are you to me!"

"Kohaku… My Kohaku… " she gave a wistful smile, "I wasn't here to protect you… and look what's happened… I never wanted this. I never wanted any of this."

Confused by her words, Kohaku peered at her dirty, bloodstained face, the one that haunted him. Her words had come to him before, cacophony of memory sounds he couldn't place. Pieces of a puzzle, but he was blind.

"But I have you now…" she murmured to herself, reaching one hand up. he put up an arm, as if to block it, but hers went around, finding the back of his head. She began pulling him down, and he couldn't quite pull away as his head rested over her left breast, her beating heart buried inside. Overjoyed that she could feel him, she let her other arm come around his shaking body, holding him there. He struggled a little, but she closed her eyes and refused to let go. Soon enough, he stopped, breathing ragged and tears leaking from his eyes for reasons he didn't know.

One word came to mind.

_Aneue._

She ran her hands over the scars in his back, through the blue fabric of his robe. One from when he fell out of a tree, when he was four. Another from slipping up on a training mission, but those two were just small, barely visible. In fact, only because she bandaged them did she know they were there. Then she came upon the rest, and knew it could not be a nightmare of any sort. Nightmares weren't that vivid or percise, even her worst.

"Kohaku… my little brother…"

o

"Do you remember anything?" Sango asked softly, running coarse strands of his hair through her fingers. They sat on the bench, in a similiar fashion to a way they had confided in eachother in times before, her back to the wall, his temple to her right shoulder.

Kohaku was about to shake his head, but doubted himself. "A little."

She smiled, so glad, in the dark musty room. "Like what?"

Pain spread across his features, and he gave a slight shiver. "It hurts. I don't want to."

"Kohaku, please!"

"No! You can't make me!" he picked up his weapon from where it lay beside him and pushed away from her, sprinting from the room. Her heart tried to follow him, writhing inside of her.

"Wait! Kohaku, come back!" she called, following him without hesitation. There was no barrier around the room, to her surprise, and she found herself in a long dark hallway, light by a few orange candles on the wall, alighthing silver spiderwebs that lined the ceiling. She followed the sound of his footsteps, of his breathing, not willing to stop. Up a staircase, through a room that smelled undeniably like blood.

Finally, he bumped into something, falling backwards onto the ground. He looked up, then down once again, as if ashamed.

"Naraku-sama…"

Sango swung around the corner, struggling to gain her bearings. She saw Kohaku first, then the figure looming over him with a sickening smile.

"You bastard!" she cried, rushing forwards. She grabbed at the weapon in Kohaku's hand, but he didn't let go.

"Let me kill him!" she pleaded, but he gave her a sad look.

"I'm sorry…"

"Kohaku, give it to me!" she glared upwards at Naraku, the real Naraku, who just watched them, amused. "He killed… so many."

"You want his life for theirs?" Kohaku asked quietly, and she nodded, trying to pry off his cold fingers.

"Does that make it right?" he continued, though mostly to himself, "If that is right, you should kill me too. I've killed people… I can't really remember it, but I did."

His expression became broken, as her attempts grew weaker, Naraku watching curiously.

"And if that is right, someone would have to kill you for killing him, wouldn't they?"

Sango stopped altogether, trembling. She said nothing, eyes hiding beneath the shadows made from lack of light.

"I don't want you to die," he told her, "I don't remember your name… But I don't want you to di. I don't want anyone else to die!"

He became still then, as if his soul had expired, and leaned back against the wall, head bowd to his chest. His eyes grew hazy, and he gave shudders now and then.

"What did you do to him?" Sango asked weakly, plucking the weapon from Kohaku's weak hands.

"I, dear Sango, did _nothing_," Naraku answered, "If I remember correctly, you were the one that made him this way."

"That's not true!" she protested, getting to her feet. He had gotten stronger, she knew. But so had she.

"Oh really?" he chuckled, "Was it not also you who stole Inuyasha's sword, not that long ago? Or you, who keeps putting the monk into danger? What was his name again?"

Sango murmured something, and Naraku raised an eyebrow.

"What was that now?"

"His name was Miroku," she hissed, getting to her feet. The kusarigama's chains clanked again the floor, faint ringing sounds. Her eyes were empty, though, an expression he loved. Defeated, lifeless. She could barely grasp her purpouse to be alive, besides revenge. Did that not make her the exact same as him when he first started out?

"Go back to your room," he commanded, "Just follow the spiders."

"No," she threatened, but he turned, uninterested.

"Then you must not care what happens to your little brother."

He walked off, and she slowly extinguished her anger. Strangely enough though, when she looked down, Kohaku had vanished. Cursing, she wound up the chain of the weapon she held, and looked to the wall. Disturbingly enough, the spiders seemed all to have come out, and were walking in the direction she came from.

Sango followed them, footsteps dragged and slow. She peeked through windows and doors, finding nothing. Of course, the rooms were probably just under a spell so they looked that way. She couldn't know for sure, and didn't want to find out the hard way, so she continued through the dark silence.

Stopping at an intersection, she squinted at the wall, having a hard time seeing. She began in one direction, but stopped immediately as sound met her ears. A soft, lilting humming, coming from a few rooms over. Hopeful, recognizing the voice, she headed for the room. Through the curtained doorway to one, she could faintly see a figure, and rushed through.

Miroku looked up, frightened. The painful memory of his blindness hit her hard, and she winced, barely able to murmur, "It's me… S-Sango."

"Sango. Looks like he got you too…"

She stood, still for a few moments, trying to restrain her beating heart. He gave her a half-hearted smile as she slowly came forward, out of the shadows trying to encompass her. Her yukata had been ripped, dirtied with earth and blood, and her hair was in dissarray. But haunting were her eyes, misty sienna watching him. She dropped to her knees beside him, where he sat on the cold, hard floor.

"Miroku…" she murmured, falling forwards onto him, forgetting all about the wounds he was supposed to have. Her hands caught his shoulders, and she pulled herself closer to him. Slowly, carefully, her lips met his. She expected the same feeling as before, but it was extremely different. Instead of warmth, there was a devastating cold, there was no faith at all. Only regret.

He tasted dead.

Sango felt him push her away, but didn't want to go. It had to be a mistake, her senses were fooling her! Again, she tried, but he pulled himself away.

"Why…? Miroku, I…"

He 'stared' at the floorboards, playing with the azure beads that still bound his right hand.

_He tasted dead._

And her distinct taste burned at his mouth, alive.

"I know we're in Naraku's castle. He made sure i was informed of that. And also that… there's a Shikon no kakera in my back," he said bitterly, "I would've died without it. I'm only half-alive; my body is feeding off it. But I'm not like… not…"

"Not like Kohaku," she offered, sorrowfully. But there was that hope they had to grasp. "You're alive."

"Somewhat…" he nodded bleakly, "The same way you were, when Naraku gave the shard to you…"

Miroku felt a tiny shock as she took his hand agressively, clasping it tightly with hers. The touch was warm against his cold skin, and he felt a disoriented, as his body was rejecting the shard's evil. There was a fletting thought of 'If only Kagome-sama were here', beofre he felt Sango pull a little, fingers tightening their grip.

"Let's go then!" she whispered, "We can kill Naraku, he's been stupid enough to let us in! Then this will all be over, it'll be so simple!"

"It won't work…"

"We can make it work!"

"You're not listening, Sango!" Miroku turned to her angrily, voice resonant in the vacant room, "We don't know anything! We're trapped in his maze, and this is in no way an advantage! I don't know the extemnt of his power of the shard in me, even. He can control Kohaku… Who knows what he could do to me. What if he makes me kill you, Sango? What then?"

"We won't get anywhere if we don't take risks," she protested.

"But if I am forced to _murder_ you-"

"Then I shall die knowiong that we came close, which is a hell of a lot better than doing nothing!" she was on the verge of slapping him, or perhaps walking out of the room. But she didn't want to leave him. She wanted to hold him, and pretend it was okay.

"At least we had that day…" he mentioned after a while of silence, and her heart cringed.

"I wish we could have more…" she shifted the positon of her hand, holding it in one, and tracing patterns on the other. His left hand, the one in which the kazaana lay was still against the floor.

"I don't mean to be so negative… I just don't want any attempts to be in vain." He winced, pain spreading from a place in the back of his neck. "You should probably go…"

"If he wants me to leave, he can tell me himself," she said defiantly. Letting go of his hand, she wrapped her arms around him, pressing him close.

"You can't win a war," she murmured into his coal-black hair, "Without some sacrifices. I don't want you to die, Houshi-sama. I don't want to have to kill Kohaku. But duty might come before desire…"

She decided it was her turn to b strong for him, as she felt wetness sink into her robe, tear stains. It wasn't fair. And the more she though about it, the more Kohaku's words frightened her. Naraku was the bad guy because of all the horrible things he'd done. They'd never given him thought for a second chance. But in someone else's veiw, she, Miroku, Inuyaha; they might be the ones doing wrong. But it was justified, wasn't it?

Or were they all just turning eachother into monsters?

Cloth sluttered in the wind on the roof above, settling against the warm roof. Kagura could hear the sobs, the words. She could hear a lot of what went on in the castle, as it came and went with the wind. Staring at the sky, she felt the sun warm her skin, teasing her.

Two more mice for the maze.

o

"Naraku-sama…?"

He could feel it; inside of him something was pushing up, bubbling, trying to erupt. Sooner or later it would start to spill, sooner or later he would give in to his curiosity as to what it was. Sometimes he would come close, but he always pushed it away at the last second, fearing, suddenly regretting it. Panting, he regained himself.

"Yes, Kohaku?"

"Wh-who was that… That woman?"

Naraku stared at the window, his back to Kohaku. "Why do you want to know?"

"She…" Kohaku stared up at his master, his saviour, and suddenly doubted his confession. "She mentioned something to me."

"And that was?"

"I can't remember, Naraku-sama. I'm sorry." Kohaku bowed his head, trying to slip back into numb.

_My sister… she said she was, but… I can't…_

There were large holes inside of him, that seemed to go on forever.

Naraku nodded, running a hand over the smooth, rich wood of the windowsil. Kohaku didn't remember; couldn't yet remember. If he did, he was surely go insane.

He was such a useful tool…

The boy did his master's will, sometimes concious, as a boy with no memory. Other times, he was a doll, a puppet strung up, and commanded to dance. Naraku let him roam the castle in his 'alive' state, and if he ever discovered anything uneeded, the memory would simply be covered. If the job was simple, Naraku might let Kohaku go about it with some control, but if it became difficult, or the group of Sango and the others made an appearance, he would revert his toy to listlessness.

"You may go now, Kohaku," the low, sinister voice came, like a tickling in his ear. The boy stood, without another word. He wanted to leave the room of his master, but he wanted someone to be near him. Knowing this was near impossible, he simply made his way to a balcony, the old structure weeping under his weight. He stared vaguely out over the thick forests, the barrier flickering, glimmering every now and then. Reminders of how far away everything was. He found himself wondering about what his life had been like previously. All he knew was that he was a taijiya. The same as… that woman.

_Aneue_?

Soft footsteps behind him grabbed his attention, and he glanced back. Approaching him was the small white-haired girl. In her hands, she held the mirror, and he could see himself in it, face inquisitive.

"Hey, Kanna," he greeted her quietly. She gave a small nod in acknowledgment, standing beside him liek a statue.

"I don't suppose you would know," he murmured, "Who she is. No…"

In the mirror, his face changed and blurred, morphing into that of the woman. Kanna traced the surface with her hand, and the image sharpened, though dim, shadows crossing her face. She sat next to a man, her lips moving as if talking without sound. Their shoulders touchd, and she looked saddened, as she almost always did. Hurt.

"You can see everything with this mirror…" he said in astonishing, leaning down to get a better view. Kanna shook her head, and he looked up with a questioning expression.

"No…"

She could see many things, but never could see undersatnd. They were just images. She could hold souls, hear their screaming, but she looked on indifferent. She couldn't care. She couldn't even want to care, though she tried. Just a blank page.

He gave her a sad smile, knowing it wouldn't mean anything. He knew then he perferred to know, to feel, even if he didn't know everything, and couldn't handle some of the feelings washing over him.

"Thank you." he said quietly, dipping his head in thanks. She kept the image there, for him to watch a little longer. She was blank. But perhaps she could learn.

o

Miroku lay, in the darkness he'd become accustomed to, but still didn't like. He felt helpless.

Warmth vibrated in his hand, that Sango had just moments ago held. She'd let go for a while, to tidy her hair. As if the tangles would ever work their way out. As if the stains would ever wash away completely.

It was hard for either to speak.

_But at least we have now._

"Miroku."

He stirred, pushing himself to sit.

_In this instant._

She held his hand tightly once more, breathing in and out slowly. The weights on her heart were so heavy, and it was difficult, so difficult, just thinking.

Being alive.

_I have you._

"I won't… won't let him…" she covered her face with one hand, steadying herself. Her body ached for food, for fresh air. There were no windows in the room, and the silence was heavy, choking, strangling them.

He let go of her hand.

_This precious instant._

And wrapped his arms around her. The consoling had gone on, back and forth, for the hours they'd been there. Breaking a little more, they helped eachother fit the pieces back together, but they just fell apart again.

"We will get out of here, Sango."

_Please let me have that._

"I promise you."

She shook, feeling his coldness. His deadness. He was slipping farther from her, and she had to cling on. There had to be some chance, some way!

_Don't take it away from me._

"Please don't lie to me, Miroku." she nearly begged, so weary.

Oh, that chance was so small.

_It would be hard to forgive._

End of Chapter 10


	11. Locks and Chains

_**Every Time**_

Chapter 11: Locks and Chains

**AN**: Sorry this one took three weeks, my head is dying. Thanks a bundle to **parnsip** for her beta-ing skillz, and everyone who has reviewed up to this point, because we have reached 100! I feel loved.

**Disclaimer:** mm, no.

Fresh air was a boon, filling her lungs that had been breathing thick, vile air for so long. The sunlight cast red splotches against her vision as she closed her eyes, slightly unaccustomed to that light. Had it been that long? She had no way of knowing. Not that she had the time to be thinking of that. The wind, the flora, the azure sky stretching on forever above her; they were all still out of her grasp, so far away.

She was not free. She was on a leash.

Sango looked back at the castle, resisting the urge to spit at it. Who the Hell cared, really? Naraku might. Naraku might lose his patience. Naraku might crush everything she had which wasn't much anyways.

His voice, slimy and causing a tickle inside of her ear, commanded her, controlled her. And he wanted her to go do a little something for him. There was a youkai he had made a deal with whose loyalties had turned with their newfound power in the jewel shard. She was to do exactly what she'd been trained all her life to do.

Slay.

She still had her uniform underneath her yukata, and two Saimyoushou had gotten her hiraikotsu from where she left it by Kaede's.

Details, details.

She had been given a lift to the area by one of Naraku's lower demons. She might have declined, except for the large amount of time it would have taken her to get to the youkai by foot. Stupid as it sounds, she wanted to get back to the castle as soon as possible. While she was gone, there was no telling what would happen to Kohaku or Miroku. She knew very well Naraku was not to be trusted. Hell, she was finding it hard to trust anything, be it reality or even herself!

There really was no way out of the maze. She just kept going in circles, wondering how she could rescue the innocently poised object, being resting on the vibrating coils of a tensely wound spring. A misstep could cause the delicate balance to upset, crushing the prize. And so she circled.

_I will not let him win…_

But as usual, there were costs.

o

"The scent's been here a few days," Inuyasha muttered, sniffing at the ground. "That bastard."

"Naraku…" Kagome murmured knowingly, wishing she and Inuyasha had been there to save them rather then arguing in her time. That Shippou had found Kirara alone still caused her heart to palpitate with fear of what might have been.

The hanyou stood, crossing his arms. "Well, they're gone. Must've flown off, cause the scent doesn't go anywhere. Naraku came here, and there was a battle. Quite a bit of blood."

"Do you think…"

"They're dead?" Inuyasha finished for her. "No. Naraku's not like that."

"So there's still hope…" Kagome squinted against her tears, putting on a smile as best as she could manage. "Right?"

Inuyasha gave a curt nod. "Obviously, Naraku has something planned. He'll show up, sooner or later. We'll be ready then."

Kagome decided not to bring up the points that only she and Inuyasha were in fighting condition, since Kirara hadn't quite healed yet, and without Miroku and Sango, there seemed no point in trying. She instead grabbed Inuyasha's hand and led him back to the village, while spouting optimistic wishes, her spirit uplifted by his consolations.

It was the least she could do.

o

It was like living a memory.

She could barely remember the battle. There was only the corpse in front of her and her used weapons, along with her body's cry for some kind of rest and her muscle's joy at returning to such use. It felt good to breathe.

But in the corner of her eye, she kept seeing her comrades salvaging what they could use from the carcass. She could feel her father's hand on her shoulder, his voice congratulating her, and Kohaku's slight laughter as he averted his eyes from the sight. But she was on her own.

A ghost in her own right.

The youkai slain, she watched a saimyoushou pick the jewel shard from the large mass of flesh that had before been trying to kill her. She had to admit she liked the adrenaline rushing through her, the thought of death being just inches, just seconds away, and how she kept avoiding it or even bringing it upon the monsters she fought. There was control when she could do that.

But it had slipped away.

And it was all just memories.

Just "Chichiue" and "Kohaku," names whose souls had faded.

Kohaku, though, she had almost caught in her grasp…

In the end, she knew she would die. As a child, she never did quite understand why her mother hugged her father tightly whenever they parted ways. When her mother had died giving birth to Kohaku, she had cried and sworn to protect her brother. A lot of good that did when his kusarigama pierced the skin of her back, biting into the flesh.

"I'm on baby-sitting duty _again_," came the sarcastic voice, shattering her memories into little pieces. The taste of them upon her tongue turned vile and bitter as she turned to see Kagura, tapping her fingers against her arm. Sango glared, quietly making her way over to the wind youkai. Kagura raised an eyebrow, giving her a look, but said nothing as she summoned the large feather. Honestly, she was dreading the ride back to the castle with the taijiya, and was glad she had been out spying so she didn't have to provide the ride there.

Sango stared away, never having been in close proximity with the wind-user. She was nice on the eyes, but not exactly what Sango would want for beauty. Some of Naraku could be seen in her, which caused a chill to run through Sango's heart.

"What…" she started, leaning forwards a little, raising her voice against the wind. "My brother… How has he been? Can you tell me?"

"Well, Naraku hasn't fucked him as far as I know," Kagura gave a smirk that instantly dropped as she saw the slayer's face. "Well, that's the truth. He's out on assignments sometimes, but Naraku seems reluctant to give him anything unnecessarily dangerous. Other times, he's just out of it. I don't really know much."

Sango gave a nod, suspicious. "Are you lying?"

"Tch. Why would I?"

"Well, you work for Naraku… It would be only natural for one to assume-"

"Look, you don't know shit about-" Kagura cut herself off, eyes widening as she saw an opening. "I know you don't know me, and probably hate my guts but…"

"But what?"

Kagura smiled, glancing around anxiously. There were saimyoushou flying near, but not near enough to hear their dialogue over the harsh wind that had blown in. Licking her lips, she adjusted her position to sit further back, so that Sango could hear her better, and it wouldn't look too much like a conspicuous conversation.

"You'll probably not believe me, but I'm in the same situation as you," she explained in quick, sharp tones. "I'm a slave for Naraku. He can't control me like he does Kohaku since I can think for myself, but if I step out of line, he can kill me within seconds, and isn't afraid to give me a little taste from time to time. And right now I want the same thing as you. I want him dead."

Sango narrowed her eyes, hair whipping painfully into her face. "You don't know what it's like-"

"I'm not asking for an understanding!" Kagura persisted. "I'm suggesting an… alliance, if you want to call it that."

Sango drew in her breath, glancing from her lap to the youkai with fierce eyes staring at her over her shoulder, waiting for her response.

"I'll do it," she said finally, and Kagura turned her head forward.

"Don't talk to me like this happened. If he finds out, we're both fucked."

Sango almost had to smile at Kagura's explicit speech. It was a trait she would usually despise in both men and women, but it suited the expression playing across Kagura's face, the wind playing with her long beaded earrings. Sango didn't have memories of many friendships before Kagome, Inuyasha or Miroku.

And they say the enemy of your enemy is your friend.

Sango was beginning to learn just how many sides there were to their little war.

o

His smile was cold on her skin.

"Well done, Sango…"

She kept her eyes on the ground, where she stood in the doorway, still covered in dirt and blood. He liked the look of her like that, as if she had just crawled out of her grave.

He grinned.

She looked up.

But said nothing.

"Do us a favor and don't let Kohaku see you like this," came the slithery voice. "You know he doesn't like blood…"

And yet he was covered in the stain.

Sango clenched her fists.

"Why don't you kill me?"

A laugh trickled from his lips into the musty air between them. It burrowed beneath Sango's skin and began to itch, tempting her to scratch until it bled. He would drink the pain from her lips, she knew, until she was sick with it.

"Sango…" he murmured, almost affectionately.

She turned and left the room, empty except for him, and the ghosts that would never leave.

He made sure of that.

o

Sango's fingers dug into the thick bundle of chestnut hair, trying to untie the ribbon that bound it up to the top of her head. Finally, the knot came undone, and her tresses fell down from their binding, swishing against her back and shoulders as she walked. Naraku seemed not to care that she had abandoned her old room and was staying with Miroku. They were brought a meal twice a day; day meaning the period of time she paced or sat around, unable to sleep. They had decided to take turns sleeping, not wanting to be caught off-guard with neither fully conscious.

"Miroku," she called quietly, approaching the door. A thump came from within, and she rushed to the door. "Miroku!"

He lay on his side, small pools of red liquid behind him, obviously from the wound on his back. His face showed extreme strain, one arm clutching his shoulder, freshly shed blood on his fingertips. A day earlier, they'd both taken baths, since they had discovered the tub strangely full, but already she felt soiled, as if she was never really able to wash it all off.

Stumbling over to him, she caught sight of a glimmer within the small crimson puddle, and her mind made the connection while raving and trying to shut it all out.

"What did you do?" she asked anyway, looking around for something to stop the bleeding. Miroku looked up, head bobbing as if he were about to be sick.

"The jewel…shard…"

"Idiot!" Sango hissed, grabbing at her yukata, which she'd left in the corner of the room before she'd left for the mission. Hastily, she sank her teeth into the material, tearing strips from what used to be the bottom. He tried to control his breathing, but the pain was immense, even more so as she put pressure on the wound. It was only bleeding a little, but the shock of suddenly not having the jewel shard to distract him from the pain was harsh. Patiently, he let her run her fingertips over the skin around the wound, which she gained access to after pulling back the dark robes he wore.

"Why?" she asked, tying the bandage tight.

He winced. "I don't want to owe Naraku my life. I was dying. Sango, I am, and the jewel shard was forcing me to become dependant on it. I don't… I don't want to be a puppet. I would rather die. I'm sorry…"

Her hands pulled away, and he pulled his legs beneath him so he could sit, still a little clumsy from dizziness and lack of sight, both at once being quite a strange experience. The shard still lay on the floor, abandoned.

"Sango?" Miroku asked, his voice sounding tired. "Are you still there?"

"I'm no more than that…" she whispered to herself. "A puppet… Just like Kohaku."

He bit his lip, reaching forwards. "I'm sorry."

"For what?" she asked bitterly. "_I'm_ the one that…made more mistakes."

"It doesn't matter."

"You just said yourself, you'd rather die!"

He gritted his teeth, letting his hand find her forearm. "_You_ don't really have a choice. I know he's playing you, Sango, but what are you supposed to do! It's Naraku we're talking about!"

"I could've done _something_!" she yelled, but didn't pull away as he wrapped his arms around her, an event that had happened a few times in the last few days. She could feel warmth in him, as opposed to the bitter cold that had before coated his skin, and was glad for it. Before she could protest again, he kissed her forehead softly.

"I know you feel badly, and I can understand why. But everyone makes mistakes. We're only human; can we expect anything else of ourselves? I don't blame you for the mistakes, and they don't at all change how much I care about you. If anything, I should be the one apologizing. Time after time, I continually touched you without permission and foolishly let my desires for women lead us into danger. But…though you became angry with me, it seemed you always forgave me, though I don't know why. It would have been so easy of you not to trust me, but you're still here." His dug his fingers into her hair, feeling her quivering next to him. "I never really understood why. But I do know that your forgiveness of me just made me care about you more. I can only give you the same in return, Sango. Never can I hate you for the things you do, as long as you have reason. So stop blaming yourself."

Limp in his arms, she gave a shudder.

"Thank you," she murmured, regaining herself, and beginning to pull away. Quickly, she pressed her lips against his. The taste of death still lingered in his mouth, but it was fading, replaced with the curious warmth that she knew as him. "I'm going to go bathe, but I'll hurry back… Thank you."

In the doorway, she paused.

"No peeking," she added, if only for old time's sake.

o

Footsteps crept down the hall, calloused skin over the smooth, wooden floor of the hallway, color as deep as chocolate. His shadow taking no time to play with the flickering candlelight that lit the halls, as he tried his best to stay quiet in his anxious state, trying not to shake, trying not to crumble.

Miroku looked up, sensing him in the doorway. The monk knew his visitor was not Sango; the breath was flavored with a different, younger voice, and his footsteps were still a little clumsy, not as graceful as the female taijiya.

"Who's there?" Miroku asked cautiously, not bothering to move. If it was a battle that was coming for him, he knew he wouldn't survive. Sango had left for the bath a good ten minutes earlier, so he supposed she would be back soon, though in her undressed state, a speedy arrival may not have been easy.

The boy in the doorway stepped in quietly, though Miroku couldn't see his appearance. Apprehension briefly touched the visitor's freckled cheeks, before he carefully paced over to the monk, trembling just slightly. A muscle in his left shoulder twitched; a nervous habit.

"Tell me…who I am," came the soft male voice, still in its youth.

A shuddered breath came from the doorway, and a third entered the room, rushing over to Kohaku.

"Kohaku, what are you…" came a voice Miroku knew as Sango.

Her little brother looked her straight in the eye, feeling his left shoulder convulse minutely once more.

"I want to know."

"Know wh-"

"Tell me who I am! I don't know who I am! But I'm ready now. Please, I need to know!"

It hurt, not knowing his own heart. Feeling it shy away from things, and give off a glow at others, when he didn't even know the people, or places, or objects he was near.

And it hurt to see that woman's eyes, again and again.

Like a nightmare on repeat.

It refused to stop.

End of Chapter 11


	12. Tangles

**Every Time**

Chapter 12: Tangles

You'll all probably wondering where I disappeared to in concerns of this fic. Well, a lot of stuff happened. Sorry about the wait.

Thanks very much to Parsnip-san for beta-ing. You rule. And yes, I can picture Naraku playing Monopoly.

**blusorami** – No, Naraku will not be raping Sango. I think I considered that at one point, but definitely not. Nope, he's just being scary.

**Disclaimer:** I don't own Inuyasha.

Her eyes bored into him, two sharp reminders of something he'd buried inside of him.

_Please, tell me!_

"Kohaku?"

_Tell me who I am!_

Her hands were on his shoulders and she could feel him shaking, skin cold to the touch. Dead. And yet his shackled soul could still be seen in his eyes, in his expression, that innocence he'd once had. To her, it seemed impossible that he'd lost it.

"Kohaku?" she said again, and he became aware of the tears falling down his cheeks.

_Who are you? Who are you to me?_

"Sango," came the monk's worried voice, "what's going on?"

The boy studied her face, both inattentive to anything else happening around them. She counted each freckle, each in the exact same place it'd been before, and he gazed at every detail of her face, feeling both a flutter in his chest and a nauseating lurch deep within his stomach at once.

"Tell me…" he choked out again, and she nodded, sinking to her knees. He went down with her, like a limp rag doll, and the monk looked nervously in their direction.

"Sango?"

"It's okay…" she whispered, but to whom this was directed was unconfirmed. Miroku sat, knowing he could do nothing else aside from listen and provide assistance if asked.

Pain erupted inside of his head and it felt like his heartstrings would snap from the guilt weighing them downbut Kohaku kept pushing. The thoughts and half-memories had been bothering him, to the point where he could no longer think straight. He was going insane, and he couldn't stop it.

But maybe she could.

He closed his eyes, and let her soft voice trickle into his ear.

o

Kagura tried her best to keep that smug little smirk off her face, but sometimes she couldn't help it. She couldn't help but feel rather pleased with herself, having been able to gain Sango's trust and form an alliance of sorts. It had been a miracle that the slayer had even believed her! Sure, they weren't exactly near the end of things, but it was a hell of a lot closer than she had been, seeing as Sesshou-maru refused to be of any service to her previously.

Eyes stuck in a glare directed at the floorboards, she paced around the room in tight ovals, lips pressed against one another in thought. Even so, the smirk would return every now and then, and she would enjoy it for a while, imagining it was Naraku she was stepping on, and then dismiss it go back to what she was doing. She was trying to formulate a plan of sorts. She figured it couldn't be too hard; Naraku did it all the time. Then again, that was all he ever seemed to do, obsessing over his enemies and moving them around like figurines in a board game.

He already suspected her. The element of surprise was almost gone, and she doubted he would let her in on his plans for the taijiya and the houshi.

Biting her lip a little harder, she stalked over to the doorway. The stuffy air was doing her no good; she needed the fresh air of the world outside Naraku's prison. She started down the hallfingering the feather in her hair.

She knew how much her master liked the desperate song of a caged bird.

o

"There used to be a village tucked in the mountains in which there lived a clan of demon slayers. There were quite a few of them, and all had been training since when they were small children. Two were barely adults, yet they fought strongly."

Sango smiled fondly, though her eyes looked far-off. Miroku winced at the falters in her voice, sitting quietly by the wall while Sango held Kohaku next to her so his temple rested against her shoulder. The boy trembled, staring intently up at her.

"Those two," she continued, bringing one hand to his nose, "were you and I. Kohaku and Sango. Our father was the head of the village, and the leader of the demon slayers. He loved us. In the summer we ate peaches with him, do you remember? You tried to feed some to Kirara, but he wouldn't let you. He laughed about it afterwards though."

Kohaku nodded and swallowed, clearing his throat. He could feel the barriers in his mind beginning to loosen, and little things were coming through. They seemed so familiar, and he was so happy to have them back. But…

Sango's hand moved to his hand, opening his palm and tracing the thin white line across it. "This scar here. You got it training that one day. You tried so hard to please father."

"I…remember that… I think…" Kohaku felt himself tremble, his head warm and fuzzy, vertigo setting in. Sango stroked his back gently, though her chest hurt with anxiety and fear of what inevitably had to happen. She couldn't back out now. It had to be done. The little girl in her tried to be stubborn and unreasonable, and believe that somehow she could fix everything; that somehow her village could be resurrected, and they could create more memories. She felt like she had too few.

The harsh truth, though, was that she couldn't. It wasn't any fault on her part. Death was death, and there was no way to change that. Kohaku wasn't alive. He was a slave, a mindless puppet. Sango couldn't let him remain that way!

She knew it would hurt him, but… she had to give him back himself.

"The next day, you came on your first mission with us," she began uneasily, glancing down at her brother. Her eyebrows furrowed as she caught his worried expression, as if he could sense _something_ that was wrong. "Kohaku?"

"I'm listening," he whispered, eyes wide. He was remembering, now. The castle was beautiful, and old…

"…but the Lord was pretty ugly. We were getting rid of a demon. Big, but nothing special. You helped, Kohaku, and you were excellent. I know father was proud of you…" Sango continued, her voice growing very faint. In her head, she could hear the eventsof that nightso loudly it felt as if her head might burst. No matter how many times she relived it in her head, it never grew any less disturbing. She squeezed her brother's shoulder gently. "Then… _Kohaku_…"

Miroku felt sickness grow in the pit of his stomach as he listened, hearing a hand smack against the floor.

"I…"

"Kohaku, please!"

The boy struggled to get out of her grip, but Sango just clung tighter to him, wrapping her arms securely around him and pressing him to her in embrace. He tried to plant his feet against the ground but only succeeded in giving her chance to disable him further.

"I won't let you go!" Miroku could hear Sango's promises, muffled because she had pressed her mouth to Kohaku's crown, not really wanting to hear it herself. Wouldn't it be wonderful if it were all a nightmare? Just one big nightmare, that wasn't real. But she knew that was a lie, and continued trying to reassure Kohaku. "I'm sorry… but I can't let you be like this."

Kohaku screamed, the note high and pained, and Sango clamped a hand over his mouth. The tears running down his cheeks wet her hands, but she didn't much care. She could barely stand hearing him, seeing him like that. She couldn't let him stay a puppet of Naraku. As much as she'd like to have him alive, she would rather have him resting where Naraku couldn't harm him than as a shell; a mindless weapon. She had the choice, and the right choice was obvious. As his sister, she had to look after him. That's what her father would've wanted her to do. That's what she had to do, as much as it might seem too difficult, too heartrending, too much!

They didn't make it that far for nothing.

Gently, she pushed him down so that his back rested against the floor and she was crouched over him, though holding him down took almost all of her strength. Just like the old days in sparring practice, came a thought in the back of her head, barely heard over the storm of varied thoughts raging in her mind.

"Sango?"

The taijiya looked over to Miroku, who stared back at her urgently, his jittering fingers betraying his worry.

"Is everything…"

"I'm okay," she told him over Kohaku's cries, both able to make out the repeated and garbled syllables of 'Aneue'. She forced another smile onto her face, wiping at his tears with her sleeve.

"It's not your f-fault, Kohaku. _Naraku_ did it. He _used_ you." Her brother tried jerking one of his arms up, but she caught it. "Sssh, please. It wasn't you! Please believe that."

"Aneue!"

Sango moved her hand from before his lips, and he gasped in a quick lungful of breath.

"Sango, should I-"

"Please don't!" she hissed at the monk, barely acknowledging him.

Kohaku cut in with another desperate cry, trying to push her away.

"A-Aneue, you should _hate_ me!"

Sango protested, "I could never hate you!"

"But I _hurt_ you! I could've _killed_ you, and I might…he might make me _kill_ you!" Kohaku looked like he was about to be sick at the idea and convulsed, skin growing paler by the second.

"Kohaku…" She could hardly stand to hear him say that, as she knew it was truth. Trying to dismiss doubt from her mind, Sango snaked her hand around Kohaku's neck, her fingers dancing in between tufts of hair not long enough to stay in the ponytail, the stray locks feathery against his cold skin. Then she reached down a bit farther, feeling the skin of his back through the robe he wore, until she came upon a spot that was just slightly swollen between his shoulder blades.

"This might hurt a little…" she murmured, ignoring his protests as her other hand pulled at the collar of his robe so that it slipped over his shoulder, revealing more of his body. The same body she'd bathed with as a toddler. The same body she'd hugged to give and receive love. The same flesh and blood as her own. She could see his ribs through his skin. He always had been on the thin side. His father had been worried that the boy might not survive, but Kohaku had always surprised them with his will.

"It's not your fault, Kohaku," Sango told him again pleadingly, and he quieted for a moment, hoping desperately he would believe it. His throat felt raw, and it was getting harder to breath, pains shooting through his lungs. "I want you to know that I love you. I know you would never hurt me. But here, with me, you'll only hurt more. And I'll miss you. Why wouldn't I? But you'll get to see father again. And you won't hurt anymore! It hurts, doesn't it?"

Shakily, he nodded, knowing it hurt her just as much. "A-Aneue…"

Miroku heard Sango flip Kohaku onto his back and pull away fabric, no doubt to give her access to the jewel shard. Kohaku whimpered, as his sister traced down his spine.

"It's true," the monk supplied, "Your sister does love you. Naraku is the one to blame."

"You're going to kill him?" came Kohaku's quivering voice.

"We have to," Miroku told him, hoping Sango wouldn't mind. "There is no choice in the matter."

Sango's fingers pinched the skin that hid the jewel shard, glad there was still a small opening where it had been pushed in. It was all that kept her brother 'alive'. But he_ wasn't_ living, and there was no way she could change that.

"It'll be okay, Kohaku," she murmured softly, the tones child-like, almost sounding as if she had lost her sanity. "I love you."

He whimpered again as she squeezed slowly, trying to be gentle. Realizing there was no way to go about it without causing him pain, she used both her hands to force out the shard, bright red blood leaking out with it. His body jerked violently, and a choked cry could be heard. Quickly, Sango gathered him in her arms once more, though he was limp and unresponsive, skin clammy and desperately pale. Miroku remained as he was, too frightened to move or even breathe normally.

"A…Ane…ue?"

"Ssssh," Sango pushed back his bangs, closed her eyes, and kissed his forehead again. As she drew away she didn't open her eyes, letting her teeth mar her lip just lightly. For a few painstaking moments there was only stillness, until finally she gathered herself and let her eyes flicker open. And there in her arms was his corpse, staring up at her in an eerie, childish way. Instantly her body contracted inwards as if she'd been punched hard in the stomach. She pressed the cold body tightly to her as it slowly disappeared, turning to nothing but a fine dust that stuck to her legs and chest. Unable to help herself, she screamed and squeezed her eyes tight, though the tears still came. She was almost surprised she still had any left to cry.

Carefully, Miroku made his way over to her on his hands and knees, reaching out his hand. As he found her shoulder, she jolted and continued patting the empty space that she held. He was gone. Her baby brother was gone again, but this time it was for good. It had been hard enough the first time, and experiencing it again was just as tough.

"Sango…"

"I'm sorry," she said, wiping at her face. Wet smudges of grey were left from the dust. "I should be happy, right? He's…"

Running his hands over her shoulder blades, Miroku got a good idea of her position, and was able to wrap his arms around her. The taijiya fell into his embrace, closing her eyes. He felt some dust from her rub off onto him and instantly guessed what it was, but didn't mention it.

Clinging to the monk, Sango pressed her ear to his chest. Through the folds of fabric, she could hear his heartbeat, strong and constant.

It was there.

It was real.

o

Kagura's eyes caught the ceiling as she leaned her back against the wall. The door beside her had been slid open just a crack, and unbeknownst to the three- now two- inside, she had decided to take a peak. _Spying_ hadn't been her intention; she'd simply been curious to what all the noise was about.

Carefully and quietly she let out her breath, bowing her head. You'd think, after all the death she had seen, that she had delivered, it wouldn't affect her in the least. But to see the taijiya's heart so broken like that… Before she would've laughed it off, but things like that, as much she hated to admit it, were really starting to get to her.

_Naraku will pay_…

Kagura stood upright and took a few lengthy steps away from the door, glancing back over her shoulder just to check that things were alright. Through the small gap between the door and the wall, she could see Miroku look up at her, an almost anxious expression in his eyes as he continued to cradle Sango in his embrace.

Unsure, Kagura gave a nod, then almost laughed in realization that he couldn't see her; he could just sense her energy. Nonetheless, she opened her fan a small bit and a gentle breeze started up, a refreshing difference from the stale, grave-like air that filled the castle. With that, the wind youkai turned on her heel and disappeared into the flickering shadows cast by the candles that lined the narrow hallway.

o

His hand curled into a fist, pale fingers all too bone-like in appearance, and squeezed, nails digging into the skin enough to leave small crescent marks colored dark rose. The vines of light blue and indigo that crawled up his wrist pulsed angrily with his blood.

…_how nice it would be… that redness…_

A bitter and somewhat mad grin came across his face, and he opened his lips just a little to let out an unimpressed 'tch', which erupted into a short bout of laughter after he found that wasn't enough. The sound bounced off the walls, coming back at him again and again, though he pretended to ignore them altogether.

It had just been a sudden pinprick in his mind, a sharp little pain alerting him before one of the many voices always murmuring and screaming and crying desperately inside of his head came to a sudden stop, dropping away where he couldn't find him.

_They took him away… one of his favorite playthings…_

But no matter. Naraku released his fingers from the fist, ignoring the aching in his hand. Kohaku had served his purpose time and time again, and was getting a little _boring_ anyways. He probably would've done away with the boy soon, so perhaps he should consider it nice of them to do it for him.

His eyebrows wrinkled at that thought.

The taijiya and the houshi… they did that…

_What mean, mean people… spoiling his fun!_

They had the jewel shard, two in fact, but they didn't dare use them. Not when they were so encompassed with his malicious aura, and their precious little Kagome wasn't there to purify them.

Naraku smirked, flicking his tongue out to wet his lips.

No, they hadn't won yet.

o

A young girl's voice lilted out over the hill, an almost faerie sound in the night air. After twirling a few times, raveny hair and aurin sleeves whipping around her, she fell back onto the thick grass that covered the ground. Her eyes excited at the stars hanging in the deep blue that expanded on forever above her, seemingly endless. Though she'd seen them many a time before, she never could get over how _beautiful_ they looked.

Suddenly, a wrinkled green face obscured her view.

"Rin! What do you think you're doing, wandering this far off?" it squawked.

Her lips came into pout. "But Jaken-sama…"

A sigh came from atop the hill. "She's fine, Jaken…"

"But Sesshou-maru-sama!"

The voice came again, this time in a threatening tone. "Jaken…"

"Hey look!" Rin interjected, pointing up at the sky.

"What is it now, girl?" Jaken growled (a rather funny sound, coming from him).

"It's that woman that came to see Sesshou-maru-sama before," she announced happily.

Jaken looked up into the sky, discovering a feather coming near to them, and rather low to the ground too. Sesshou-maru just gave a small 'hmph' in disinterest.

A great gust blew in as the grey plume landed on the ground and shrunk until it was normal sized and caught between the first and middle fingers of its rider. Kagura stepped forward, tucking it back into her hair.

"What, no welcome party?" she asked sarcastically, raising an eyebrow.

Sesshou-maru ignored her jests, taking a step forward. "Why is it you keep paying us visits, wind-user?"

The amused smile dropped from Kagura's face. "A fortnight from now, Naraku's guard will be down as he must revert to a weaker state, him being a half-demon and all. If you want any part of his death, come then."

"Is that all?"

"I guess so," she answered, the smug grin returning to her lips. "I'll see you around then."

She plucked the feather from where it rested in her hair, and with a sharp breeze it expanded. She hopped on, giving the party a short wave before rising upwards and creating a wind to carry her away. Rin watched this, wide-eyed.

"Cool!" she exclaimed after recomposing herself. "I wish I could fly too!"

Sesshou-maru closed his eyes, leaving Jaken to deal with the child.

_A fortnight…_

o

Floating.

That's the only way he could describe it. His body felt weightless and light and empty. As if he wasn't really there. But he could still feel things, and hear things too. Every now and then a voice would come along, only faintly, but it would leave just as soon.

On his tongue was the taste of peaches. Warm sunlight touched his skin, along with shadow, as if he were lying under a tree in summer. That's what it smelled like. Summer.

"Kohaku…" the voices came again, like wind tickling his ear.

It was beautiful, and perfect.

His soul was unburdened; unchained.

Forgiven.

End Chapter 12


	13. Keloid

_**Every Time**_

Chapter 13: Keloid

Notes: Yeah, I know, it's been forever and I apologize. Thanks to everyone who keeps reading and reviewing and to my wonderful beta Parsnip (thank you so, so much!). Just one chapter and an epilogue to go, and I'll try to get those up as soon as I can, so don't worry about this being abandoned.

This chapter's title is a little odd, I know. If you actually want to know about it, I suggest going here (without spaces) www (dot) medicinenet (dot) com (slash) keloid (slash) article (dot) htm. And if you're looking for some interesting rock music, try Dir en Grey's _Gyakujou Tannou Keloid Milk_. It's strange, yet wonderful.

Rights disclaimed.

o

"That boy… is gone."

Kagura lifted her head where it was resting on her folded arms, blinking a few times to clear her vision.

"Sorry, Kanna-chan. What was that?" she asked, arching her eyebrows slightly. Kanna was sitting behind her on the balcony, while she was leaning against - sleeping on, really - the railing. They had been having one of their usual 'conversations'. Kagura would babble and rant on for a while, talking, complaining and the like.

"That boy…" Kanna murmured again, eyes staring almost vacantly at the silky white material that covered her knees.

"Kohaku?"

She nodded in response.

The expression on Kagura's face softened, her eyes sliding out over the heavily-forested scenery. "Mmm…"

Waiting for her younger sister to continue, Kanna began to run a fingertip along the rim of the mirror lying in her lap. The image shown inside begin to waver, giving the appearance of ripples on now silvery water. Kagura had always found it fascinating to watch Kanna use it, no matter how many times she had seen it already.

"Yeah, Kohaku's gone," Kagura continued after a while. "His sister, that woman taijiya Naraku is keeping now, set him free." A bitter smirk spread across her face. "I think I envy him, you know? He was able to get away from here. I mean, yeah, he's dead and all, but I'd rather be there then trapped here like I am. Like we are.

"It was hard on Sango. And I don't blame her for all that crying and screaming, either. He was her little brother, and the only thing she had since Naraku slaughtered her family. To do such a thing would be tough on anyone with a certain amount of morality left. To make such a sacrifice would take a lot. But," The bitterness of her smile turned wistful.

"It would be worth it."

o

Beads of sweat ran in narrow rivers down Sango's forehead, some clinging to strands of the dampened hair that stuck to her face. The lightweight material of her taijiya uniform clung to her sweat-slick body, and the thick, humid air that had settled that day was no help. Nonetheless, Sango pulled herself to her feet, wiping dirt and grime from where it had collected on her body and taking a deep lungful of air as she did so.

The courtyard of the expansive castle was not overly large, but big enough so that Sango could train without damaging anything, nor have to restrain herself too much. Though she had no partner to spar against and she lacked most of her weapons (only her Hiraikotsu was left in her possession, as it had not been taken from her since the day Naraku had sent her out, and that unfortunate thing had happened), she was able to keep herself in decent shape.

She had been doing so every day, Miroku recalled from where he sat in the shade, since Kohaku's death. His second death, it could be called, though he wasn't very alive for that second life. Sango had been left shaken after the event, and he had known it would take some time for her to regain herself, though she would never truly be whole. The first time experiencing such things was hard enough, but it hurt just as much the second time round.

For a long while they had remained in embrace, his hands cautiously wrapping themselves around her trembling wrists, stroking her upper back, neck and face (but going no further). He did not dare speak, letting her take as long as she needed.

He would wait for her, without a second thought.

Sometime later, with her cheek on his shoulder and his chin on her crown, Sango had fallen asleep, and Miroku had soon followed. When he awoke the next morning, she had vanished, empty airspace next to him. He had called for her, and she had not replied. He had tried reaching out his arms and fumbling around the room until he was sure she was not there.

Even after trying to calm himself, Miroku found himself jittery, paranoid, and with good reason. Panic seized him once more. He had an overflowing handful of questions - _Where was she? Was she alright? Was she alive? Did Naraku take her? Or did she leave of her own accord? Was she planning on killing herself to follow her brother?_ - but no answers.

Finally, he heard soft footsteps coming down the hall that he hoped-prayed-knew were hers. He heard her enter, and something drop to the floor before Sango approached him.

"Sango," he blurted out, focusing himself on where her sounds were coming from.

"How long have you been awake?" she asked him simply in return. Her voice was soft, as if a faded remnant of something that used to be.

"Just a while. Where were you?" Miroku asked, trying not to sound anxious or upset.

"The courtyard."

She smelled of sweat and ashes.

He was about to ask her how she was feeling, how she had slept, if she had forgiven herself for Kohaku's fate yet, but he could hear the floorboards creaking as she lowered herself to the floor beside him. He felt her press something cold and circular into his left hand, touch lingering.

"Believe it or not, there's an apple tree here," Sango told him, warmth returning to her voice. "There's quite a few weeds, but in the corner there's a small tree. I figured you would be hungry."

"Thank you."

She exhaled as she brought her arms out in stretch, doing the same with her legs before leaning back against the wall.

Miroku took a cautious bite of the apple, and chose not to mention how sour it was, just grateful to be eating it. Sticky rivulets trickled down his unshaven chin, which he wiped away with the sleeve of his robe.

"So," he asked semi-light heartedly after a short lull, "how are you doing?"

"I'm alright."

Insistently, he tried to smile. "_Sango_…"

She fidgeted, but said nothing.

"I don't expect you to be perfectly okay," he continued to her, the grin coming more naturally. "What happened was, without a doubt, very hard on you. I admire you for being as strong as you were, and don't you dare think I'm lying. I just don't want you to start keeping all of what's going on in your head inside you again, because that's unhealthy and it will only amplify the damage. It is hard to live with such things, such memories, but I know you can get through it. And I promise you, I will help you as best I can. Sango?"

Again, she did not answer.

"I'm sorry," Miroku said, "that kind of seemed to come out of no where, didn't it?"

"No…" She leaned over to her right, resting some of her weight carefully on him. "I… thank you."

Miroku found himself forming her face in her mind, painting her expression wistful, her hair a little mussed and her lips turning upwards. He knew this image of her probably did not match what was actually in front of him, but kept it in his mind's eye nonetheless.

"When we get out of here," said Sango, "and when this is all over… I want to give Kohaku a proper burial. Him and the rest of the taijiya."

"I wouldn't expect anything else."

"I miss him, and I wish it could be different… but I'm glad." She clasped her hands, and rested them in her lap. Of course she missed Kohaku; it was like ripping out part of her all over again and sending it away, knowing she wouldn't see it again for a long time, if ever. She couldn't help but regret it in one way or another. However, she mentally reprimanded herself for such selfishness and thought about how much happier Kohaku was now.

Naraku could not use him, could not hurt him, could not ravage his soul any more.

He was her little brother. She was supposed to protect him. And she had done her best to see that through.

"I know he would want me not to miss him, but I can't help it…"

Miroku's hand found her knee and squeezed.

She didn't quite understand why Miroku had such firm faith in her, nor why she believed him or when they had tiptoed over a line that was playful and flirtatious mock-hatred and into that which they were now. But nonetheless, she brought her mouth to his ear and let out careful whispers of the plans she made with Kagura. Plans to overthrow Naraku; to avenge Kohaku among countless others; and to escape, or at least to try. What other chance did they have?

Afterwards, he carefully kissed her forehead and then her lips, and she smiled, even if neither could see it.

o

Since then, Sango's training sessions in the courtyard had become a daily ritual that Miroku did not object to, except to remind her not to work herself too hard. It was a risky move, seeing as Naraku could watch and pick up on her techniques, other strengths and weaknesses, but she figured if they were ever going to get out she would be at a great disadvantage if she was not in proper shape. Miroku, not having completely healed from the removal of the shard from his body and now lacking eyesight, usually rested in the courtyard and observed her with the senses he still had.

Sango, for the most part, had stayed fairly quiet. The days seemed to stretch on in her silences, and their situation did nothing to help it. Every second they tried to make sure they were alert and ready.

It was rather exhilarating in a way, being that close to death. Nerve wracking and mind rupturing and exhilarating all at once. It was made a little more livable, though, by the promises of 'You have me' whispered from one to the other, as many times as were necessary. Such things kept Sango grounded, and Miroku from cracking.

Strangely, Naraku had not been in touch with either of the two for the last few days, causing both to worry. They were unable to stop themselves from wondering, as horrible as those things might be, what Naraku was planning next. It reminded Miroku of the shogi games he would sometimes play with Mushin back when he was a child at the temple. Admittedly, he played with skill above the average, but nothing _spectacular_.

"How was it?" Miroku asked Sango as she lay down on a patch of unruly grass, her breath coming deep and slow.

"Good," she answered breathily, her voice sounding nearer and brighter. "Pass me an apple?"

"Of course."

o

"Sango?"

The taijiya looked up as her name was spoken, directing her eyes to the doorway of their room. There, Kagura leaned against the frame, her half-open fan hiding part of her shoulder. Miroku could tell from her tone, she was not quite displeased or worried, and not really annoyed, but somewhere in between.

"Naraku wants you."

o

Just like every time before, it made Sango sick to see him, to hear him, and just to be near him. Even so, this time was a little worse in the same way it was a little better.

She stood in front of Naraku with her hands clasped behind her back, eyes looking everywhere but at his. She was almost afraid to open her mouth, for fear she would lose control of herself and begin screaming at him about how horrible he was, and how much he deserved death. She was almost afraid to move, for fear her body would run forward and attempt to hurt him in any way she could. Thus she stood still, knees just slightly bent, waiting for him to begin.

As much as it had damaged her, taking away Kohaku had destroyed one of Naraku's valuable weapons against her. The thought, however painful, had given her a burst of hope and of strength, and part of her fear of him had receded. The struggle would not be so easily won for either side.

And there he was, just a few meters in front of her, red eyes and black tendrils of hair about his chest and shoulders that almost looked as if they would come to life any moment and reach out to strangle her. The shadows seemed to pool around him, trying to lure her in.

"So, Sango," he said, voice saccharine. His scarlet gaze tried to command her attention, but she continued to stare just to the right of his head. She did not respond vocally, but gave a slight nod.

He smirked. "You think you're gaining ground, then? You think what you did helps you?"

The edge on his voice told her he already knew the answers to the questions he asked so mockingly.

She swallowed the phlegm that had gathered in her mouth, moving her eyes a little further away.

"You killed your _brother,_ Sango… Does that not make you a little _heartless_?"

_(A little like **me**?)_

"He's better off there than here," the taijiya uttered.

_(Death will only bring thoughts of revenge and more death, a continuing loop near impossible to break…)_

"Really," said Naraku. "Is that what the monk thinks as well? I might be a little worried if I were him, you know. If you're willing to sacrifice you're own _brother_, who knows what else you might do. Especially after letting him lose his sight like you did." He shifted his weight, eyeing her up and down, outside and in. "Then again, he's not all that trustworthy either, is he?"

_(So hard for a human heart to take…)_

"If you're trying to turn me against him it's not going to work!" Sango snapped. "You're trying to make us like Inuyasha and Kikyou, but that tragedy won't be repeating. We're not like that!"

"You seem sure of yourself," he commented, giving her that smile that made her feel like a child again, so unknowing. "Very well then… I have a little mission for you. The Saimyoushou will escort you to a temple where you will gather information on the disturbances that have been plaguing them for the past while. You'll be leaving immediately. Understand, Sango?"

She nodded once more and turned to go, clamping her mouth shut and pushing down the anger that was trying to force its way up inside of her. It just bothered her, having to take orders from him like a marionette. And it caused her grief to know this was just like what Kohaku had experienced.

_(Just marionettes, on strings so thin and easy to cut.)_

"Hurry back," Naraku taunted as she headed swiftly through the doorway, "Who knows what might happen while you're gone."

_(Snip, snip.)_

o

When she arrived at the temple, she found it had burned down some time ago. All that was left was charred wooden beams among a pile of ashes and some various items made out of metal shining through. Beside it was a small graveyard, which she might have visited had she not been so anxious to get back.

The low droning of the Saimyoushou almost sounded like monotonous laughter, ringing in her ears, but maybe she was just mishearing.

She did not go to see Naraku when she reached the castle once again that evening, but hastily made her way straight to the room she and Miroku were occupying. He was sitting in the corner, pensive, and gave a shaken grin as she greeted him.

"What did Naraku tell you?" she asked him urgently.

He sighed, and responded, "Nothing that was true."

o

"They aren't coming back, are they?"

Kagome swallowed a mouthful of rice, worriedly glancing at Shippou through the flames of their small campfire. The young kitsune sat cross-legged at the base of a small tree, Kirara's head rested on his knee as she slept, unaware.

"What do you mean by that, Shippou-chan?" Kagome asked, sending a short look to Inuyasha before putting her plate down on the ground and getting to her feet.

Shippou pouted, pushing around the food on his plate with his utensils. "Sango and Miroku… They're gone."

"Yes, but I'm sure-"

"You don't have to lie," the child murmured. "I get it. They're dead, aren't they?"

Kirara mewed soft inquisition at this, large eyes blinking sleepily. She had seemed distressed since her mistress had disappeared, and had thus attached herself to the also distraught Shippou.

"And if they're dead, we really don't have any hope, do-"

"Shut up!"

Kagome, Shippou and Kirara all looked up abruptly, startled at Inuyasha's outburst. The hanyou had his arms crossed stubbornly over his chest, staring firmly at Shippou. Flashes of firelight darted over his face in the thin evening light.

"Enough of that, Shippou! You're being an idiot!"

"But-"

"No buts!" Inuyasha interjected. "You have no proof they're dead! This is Sango and Miroku we're talking about here! So don't you dare say such things!"

Kagome sighed, closing her eyes. "Inuyasha, don't you think that was a little harsh?"

"You know you were thinking the same thing, Kagome."

"He didn't mean to yell at you Shippou-chan," she said, resting a hand on the kitsune's head. "Just try to keep hope okay?"

_It's hard enough for him as is._

o

Though Sango asked a few times what exactly Naraku had said to Miroku, he had always given her a vague answer, or just refused outright. He had, however, assured her he had not been assaulted in any way, nor had he believed a word of what he had been told. Sango had, after more than a few moment's hesitance, told him in pieces the words Naraku had taunted her with before she was sent off, to which he had been quiet for a while and thanked her. But he still told her no more, and the discussion did not go much further aside from those hushed _'It isn't true'_, because truly, neither wanted to delve too far and find something they didn't want to.

Such things soon slipped down from terms of importance, as the stifling aura that filled the castle and its grounds began to wane, growing dimmer by the day. Sango's stomach seemed to grow heavier by the minute, as if it was being filled with rocks. Kagura had pulled her aside the day before and whispered in her ear their plans, clarifying and making sure nothing would fall through. There was no time for doubt, but with the wind-user seeming so eager, so desperate and hopeful to escape her keeper, Sango couldn't help but believe her.

And now it was, as the saying goes, now or never.

How could they not seize the chance, when it was the only one within their grasp?

Sango could feel her entire body throbbing, heart pace loud and fast. Her insides felt freezing cold and yet boiling hot at the same time, a strange mixture of excitement and dread. Miroku's hand was in hers, his footsteps following as she led him out of the room, both trying the best they could not to shake.

_Now or never, now or never._

With one deep breath, and too many thoughts and emotions to count whirling through her head, she pushed herself another step forward.

End chapter 13


	14. Finale

**Every Time**

Chapter 14: Finale

Notes: Wow, the last chapter (save the epilogue)! I could go all sappy about how much I've learned and grown over the time writing this, but I'll save you the agony, and let you enjoy what it took so _so_ long to finally get done.

Many thanks go to parsnip; you're such an awesome and helpful beta, and I could have never done it without you!

I disclaim.

* * *

All she could let herself think was that she needed to just keep running. 

Her legs hurt, her arms hurt, her lungs hurt, her head hurt – Hell, her entire body hurt! – but she forced it out of her mind, forcing the muscles to continue letting her move a little further. Her lungs begged for proper amounts of oxygen, unsatisfied with the strained gasps she was supplying it with.

Behind her, she could hear Miroku, panting and stumbling as she pulled him along. His hand clutched her wrist tightly to keep him from slipping when she jerked him this way and that to avoid the trees and large rocks that flavoured the landscape around Naraku's castle.

"You alright?" she choked outwithout looking back at him.

"Y-yeah," he answered, feeling her swing to the left. Immediately he adjusted his step, feeling a twig scratch at his face as he narrowly avoided a low-hanging branch.

_Just run, keep running, keep going, keep running away, away, away from Naraku, and don't look back._

_Just _run!

* * *

Their plan to take down Naraku was not foolproof, but it was all they had. Any doubts remaining in Sango's mind were pushed forcefully away as she and Miroku followed Kagura down the vacant hallway. A few odd floorboards creaked with misplaced steps, causing both to wince as the harsh sound that broke the stillness. Kagura would talk to them quietly every now and then, obviously trying to settle their rattled nerves with her sarcastic remarks, but it was completely impossible to relieve the tension with the task before them. 

"Sesshou-maru might come, but then again, he might not. You know how that asshole is…"

Sango had lost track of how long they had been walking by the time they reached their destination. Her grip on the hiraikotsu tightened, body ready and itching for battle.

Now or never.

Kagura's flaring scarlet eyes flickered from Sango to Miroku.

"Ready?"

Miroku nodded, and Sango exhaled slowly.

"Yeah."

The room – though it was not really a room, more a large dugout basement beneath the castle – was unlit, and the air was thick with the smell of earth, rot, and an awful something else that none of them could place. Miroku even found himself short of breath due to Naraku's youki, thick and prevalent all around them. Trying to place it was nearly impossible in the bleak darkness that obscured his vision, head clouded by nervous thoughts and the heartbeat that thudded loudly in his temple.

Kagura's light footsteps stopped suddenly, and a brief tap on his shoulder from Sango signalled he should pause as well.

Sango watched Kagura's gesturing hands, motioning to go around a curve in the wall they stood beside. It was obvious what was there. She took a moment to run through things quickly in her head, sifting through a series of thoughts and memories stored fondly in her mind and plucked out certain ones from the pile to watch, for perhaps the last time. There were so many, she found as she submerged for just a moment, and as the afterimages faded in her mind, she was shaking.

_For father… for all of the taijiya, and for all of my village… for the people who have been hurt… for those who have been killed… for all my friends… for Miroku…_

Swallowing the lump in her throat dryly, she opened her eyes.

_For Kohaku…_

The first notes of the overture began lilting from the orchestra pit as the golden lights dimmed, blocking out all outside distraction. The audience settled into a hush as the great velveteen curtains stirred and began to part, revealing the stage.

The final act had begun.

When Sango looked back on it later, it was a little hard to remember. A few images stayed vivid, one of these being Naraku's form that night – various pieces of grotesque body strewn around the large main form, and at the center of it all his ghastly pale-skinned head. Even with his eyes closed, the slight curve of its lips looked chillingly malicious.

She heard Kagura yell something (something, she could not recall), voice harsh and wild as the winds picked up around her, and the battle started.

_It was no wonder I could hardly bring to mind what I had done,_ she thought afterwards. She had let herself use everything locked up inside of her – all that bottled up frustration, anger, disappointment, desperation – and turned it into pure adrenaline as Naraku's eyes shot open and she rushed forwards, hiraikotsu in hand. She managed to get in a few good, though reckless hits before he started to send out attacks of his own. The winds whipped her hair into her face and neck, but she ignored it, forcing herself to move faster and anticipate what she had to do next, and then after that, and after that. Fortunately, Naraku was without his usual taunts and jeers at that time, perhaps because of his weakened state, and this made it much easier to concentrate.

Meanwhile, Miroku was doing his best to fight off some of the minor demons that Naraku had called in to attack; it seemed he had suspected they would try something and had prepared himself to some degree. With his lack of sight and Naraku's stifling youki, it was difficult to predict attacks. He knew he had been pushed around and playfully slapped, even nipped a few times, but had fought most of them off.

'_Useless_.'

The Kazaana was of no use without his sight; if he used it he would probably just end up sucking Sango and Kagura along with all the demons and Naraku, and to risk Sango's life would be unbearable. Just the thought hurt, making the decision for him. All he could do, really, was keep his own self from getting killed and stay out of the way. Never had he felt so _useless…_

For a while, Sango was sure she was getting through. She tore through Naraku's flesh and damaged it again before he had time enough to heal it. Sometimes she was able to work in combination with blows dealt by Kagura, only increasing the power of the blow. His reflexes were slow, and he wasn't in any position to move; his only defences were the demons he somehow summoned to attack and the long tentacles that shot at her from what seemed to be all directions.

But of course, it was never that simple.

Just as she managed to dodge one attack and get in a little closer to Naraku's head – her weapon raised and anger radiating from her eyes – pain shot suddenly through her right side, just beneath her breast. The fabric felt damp and warm with blood as her body began to fall like dead weight, a throaty gasp piercing the air for a few seconds, but only that. Forcing her eyes to stay open (and catching a glimpse of the smirk Naraku was giving her as she did), she tried to haul herself up again; there was no point in giving up, no point in giving in. She couldn't!

"Sango!" Miroku cried out as he heard her scream, moving hastily towards where he had heard it coming from, though he stumbled over the parts of corpses that were strewn around as he did. "Sango, where are you? Are you-"

"Behind you!" she yelled through gritted teeth, and he ducked just in time to avoid having his head knocked off.

Exhaling in relief, he murmured a quick thank you to Sango before crawling towards her again.

"You okay?" he asked insistently.

Sango pulled herself into a crouch, wincing as the pain continued to come on in steady waves. "Yeah, it's not too bad. Not like he pierced my lung or anything, so I'm-"

"Maybe you should rest for a while," Miroku interjected. "I'll cover you."

"No," Sango said strongly, "I can do this."

"Sango…"

Their conversation was stopped abruptly as Miroku whipped around to fend off a group of youkai that had caught the strong smell of Sango's blood.

Kagura watched the exchange out of the corner of her eye, focusing on sending another wave of 'Fuuji no Mai' at Naraku. Things were not going well; he had more power than she had realized in this state, or maybe they were just weaker. In any case, she had hoped to wound him badly enough with their element of surprise in the first stages of the fight that they might gain an upper hand (also, she had figured Naraku would have crushed her heart and killed her before she got much of a chance to attack, but he hadn't yet, luckily). Unfortunately, this had not happened, and the battle was locked in a sort of stalemate, though she could tell it was only a matter of time before Sango and Miroku tired and since Sesshou-maru – _uppity asshole_, she added mentally – seemed to have forgotten what she had told him, they would…

Her thoughts were interrupted by an exclamation from the houshi.

"Sango, Kagura!" Miroku shouted, standing and facing the direction of Naraku. "Get behind me! Quick!"

His thoughts echoed Kagura's; their situation was still near hopeless. He recalled a saying Kagome had once told him. 'Desperate times call for desperate measures'.

It was without hesitation he reached for the prayer beads over his hand and pulled them back to his wrist, despite the Saimyoushou that had been hovering around menacingly. Had any of them looked at Naraku, they would have seen the delighted smile that crossed his face at this, watching as Miroku loosened the rosary further and a great wind picked up The beads barely glinted, looking aged and worn; only a fraction of the glory they had once held. Perhaps, Sango thought absentmindedly for a moment, it was just the lack of light. However, no sooner had the thought appeared was she on her feet again, grabbing at Miroku's arm from behind. His muscles stiffened, panicked, but relaxed again as he realized that she was the one grabbing onto him.

"What are you doing?" she hissed loudly in his ear, grabbing at the beads franticly. "What's wrong with you!"

"S-Sango, I-"

"Stop it!" she spun him around and tugged them over his wrist quickly before having to pull both their bodies to the ground to avoid an attack. She cursed loudly, making sure the rosary was in place before getting back up.

"Don't you _dare_," Sango uttered before running off, still keeping an eye on him as she dove back into the battle, once again summoning her frustration and grief to fuel her. It was true, things weren't looking good but such risks she didn't want to take. Losing both of them would be too much…

"Hey!" Kagura shouted to the taijiya suddenly, leaping over to join her. "Tell your boyfriend he doesn't need to throw his life away! Back up arrived!"

Sango blinked, looking confused a moment before Kagura gestured over her shoulder to where Sesshou-maru had made his entrance, alone. He gave their surroundings a look of disgust before grandly drawing his sword and nodding to Kagura.

"What took you so fucking long?" she yelled, but he pretended not to hear. The wind-user turned back to Sango. "Look, I want you two to go."

"What?"

"We can take it from here," Kagura told her. "I know you want to keep fighting, but face it, humans don't have nearly as much strength of endurance as most youkai. I do appreciate your effort, and you've worn him down a lot, but it'd be better if you got out of the way, now. Besides," she smiled bitterly, "if for some stupid reason we don't win today, you guys have to survive and take down the bastard some other time. Got me?"

Sango barely had time to respond before Kagura was gone again. Butchering a youkai that had dared to attack her, she took a quick second to make her decision. Though she desperately wanted to continue fighting and kill Naraku on her own, she could feel her energy boiling down, and her body just wasn't responding as fast as it was at the beginning of the battle. If this kept up, she would probably be more of a burden than a help, and worse, she might die without getting the job done, making all those sacrifices worthless. No, not worthless, but still…

They had done all they could, and that was the bottom line, Sango decided. She reached Miroku quickly, calling out his name as she reached for his hand. A small amount of tentacles shot out to them, as if attempting to keep them there, but they managed to evade them.

"Come on," she said urgently. "We have to go, or we'll just be in the way now. We've… we've done all we can."

It was with a weak smile and nod that he followed her, running quickly out and away as the building started to shake and crumble with the force of the battle. The castle was going down, he realized, thinking briefly of the apple tree before pushing his legs to run faster along with Sango. Away…

* * *

"Sango!" 

Her legs kept moving.

"Sango!" Miroku said again, breathless. "I think we've gone far enough…"

She ran the suggestion through her mind twice, then began to slow her pace.

"Alright, there's a-a clearing over there! Uh, to the left." she called back to him, and began guiding him towards it, stepping quickly over the faded orange pine-needles that covered the forest floor, left there from the winter of the previous year. And finally, she let herself collapse, back pressed against the thick trunk of a tree, bark rough and peeling. Miroku, to her left, had done the same. Her entire body felt cold with sweat, almost numb, though jolts of pain still came every few seconds. Eyes closed, she focused on breathing – slowly, in through her nose, and then out through her mouth.

Beside her, she heard the ripping of cloth and opened her eyes but a slit to watch as Miroku ripped a wide strip of cloth from the bottom of his tattered robes.

"What are you…?"

"Where are you wounded?" he asked quietly.

"I'm fine," she said. "I'll bandage you first."

Miroku shook his head. "I may be blind now, Sango, but I can smell the blood on you… You're worse off than me."

"No, I'm…" Sango paused, and then looked down over her body, wincing at all the scrapes and cuts she had not before noticed. Of course, there was also the large gash on the right side of her abdomen where Naraku had gotten her. She touched it gingerly and winced, the nearly dried blood sticky on her skin.

"Alright, maybe I am," she said, quietly. "But I can do it myself, you don't have to-"

Ignoring her, Miroku reached forwards tentatively. He was lucky and found her waist, then let his hand move across and upwards until his fingers reached the wound.

"Damn," he muttered. "We don't have any water… I can only bind it for now. Does it look clean?"

Sango, surprised at just how levelheaded he was, glanced at the wound again. "I-I think so."

He nodded, and pressed the first strip of cloth to the wound. At the painful hiss of breath this elicited from Sango, he paused, and then continued a little more gently. The silence between them was still tense and nervous, though relieved.

They were alive.

They had escaped _alive_.

(Kohaku hadn't…)

It was for the best, Sango told herself once again. As much as it hurt, and as much as it didn't seem like it sometimes, this was the right thing.

A jolt of pain went through her chest as Miroku tied the makeshift bandage, and went to move on to some of her other wounds. She shifted forwards a little, raising an arm in protest.

"No, no," she mumbled, "I should take care of you now. I mean, aren't you-"

Miroku shook his head firmly again, picking up another strip of fabric. "You're bleeding from your shoulder, aren't you?"

She was.

"Miroku," she said after a while of quiet, in which he did his best to scrape the crusted blood from her skin and she let him. "Do you remember… I mean, would you mind telling me what-what Naraku said to you? Please… it's been bothering me."

At first, he continued his motions like clockwork but just as she was about to apologize for asking, he spoke.

"I was scared."

"What?"

"I was really, _really_ scared," he continued, "that you were going to die. You see, Naraku knew that my Mother… well, birthing a child with the Kazaana was rough on her; it was a surprise she didn't die then and there, but she only lived for two years after. I don't remember her very well, but little things – like stories she used to tell me, or how soft her hair was when she let me play with it – I remember those very well. My father destroyed himself when she died. It was his curse that killed her, essentially. It left her weak and susceptible to illness.

"It happened with my grandfather too, only my grandmother – his second wife, actually, his first left him – did die in childbirth, leaving him to raise my Father all on his own until handing him over to a priest remarkably like Mushin just before he was sucked into the Kazaana… My bloodline really is cursed, and not just with perversity, so Naraku decided to use this information to his advantage. He didn't say it outright, but he hinted clearly that the same thing might happen to you. That you might get hurt because of… because of this." Miroku gestured angrily to his right hand. "I couldn't bear that. So today, when you were fighting, I was so scared that you were going to get hurt, and I couldn't help you…"

"You reckless fool," said Sango faintly. "You were willing to die…"

He smiled in that way he did. "I guess I was. As long as I killed Naraku and left you alive in the process, I would've been happy in my demise."

"You reckless fool!" she repeated, tears rising to wet her bottom lashes. "Did you ever think of what I would have felt if you were to die? Do you have any idea?"

His face fell slightly. "I-"

"Don't even." she shook her head, and reached over to place her hand over his firmly. "It's okay now, right? I mean, we made it out alive, so we still have a chance to go after him if Kagura and Sesshou-maru can't get the job done. We still have time. We still have each other, right?"

"Of course," Miroku reassured her, and himself. Sometime in the past while, a soundless understanding had built between them. There was closeness and trust, and yet a lot more than that. It had become natural, and no longer needed question or uncertainty, providing a steadiness they could cling to however tightly they needed.

Once their wounds had been dressed to some extent, Sango let her head rest softly against Miroku's shoulder, but only softly, as neither of them were in the best of shape. She felt his hand on her back, comforting, not daring to go any lower at such a time. They were bloody and they were battered, but they were alive and there was still hope. Even if they had lost other things, they still had that.

Sango turned her face into Miroku's robe and exhaled, breath against warm flesh.

They were alive.


	15. Epilogue

**Every Time**

Epilogue

It had rained that morning.

There were dewdrops coating the blades of grass beneath her calloused feet, but the sun was out, shining warmly down on her. She inhaled richly, and closed her eyes for a moment. A hazy tranquility had settled but traces of the wet stormy wind still played with the ends of her hair, sweeping in strongly every now and then.

"He would be happy…"

She turned, and found Miroku behind her, smiling vaguely in her direction.

Sango nodded. "I know."

How long had it been? A year or so now?

She did not try to pretend she did not know the exact number of days, and dropped a handful of wildflowers onto the grave. Kohaku's grave. It was on the outside of the ruins of their village, in a beautiful secluded place Sango knew he had loved. After Naraku's demise, Sango had wanted to return, as if to deliver the news herself that everything had settled. She had come out before dawn and whispered it to him, among other things.

Thankfully, Naraku had been destroyed by Sesshou-maru, though apparently Kagura had worn herself thin and in the end, Naraku had made sure she died with him, frustrated about his plan, whatever it had been exactly, having failed. Sango liked to think, though she had not known Kagura well at all, that such an ending allowed her to die in peace. A happy ending for all of them, then. She had certainly gotten part of hers, she mused, feeling Miroku's hand brush against her shoulder; he had gotten remarkably good at finding and navigating her body without his sight.

It felt miraculous to be alive, to have somehow managed to come out of the entire ordeal in one piece. Through all of it, the tragedy and loss, she had fought. She had fallen, of course, but she had gotten up again every time.

Miroku could hardly be prouder.

"I love you," he whispered quietly in her ear.

And quietly, he heard her respond, "I love you too," before she was overcome with a tearful laughter that was swept away with the wind.

End.


End file.
